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CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


PUBLISHED  ON  THE  FOUNDATION 
ESTABLISHED  IN  MEMORY  OF 
HENRY  WELDON  BARNES 

OF  THE  CLASS  OF  1882,  YALE  COLLEGE. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

AN  ESSAY 

FOR  ENGLISH-SPEAKING  READERS 

OF  FRENCH 

BY 

CHARLES  CAMERON  CLARKE 

PROFESSOR   OF   FRENCH 
SHEFFIELD  SCIENTIFIC  SCHOOL,  YALE   UNIVERSITY 


NEW  HAVEN  •  YALE  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 

LONDON   •   HUMPHREY    MILFORD   •   OXFORD   UNIVERSITY    PRESS 

MDCCCCXXII 


COPYRIGHT    1922   BY 

YALE   UNIVERSITY   PRESS 


CO 


CD 


"PC 
CS5g 


Q  THE  HENRY  WELDON   BARNES  MEMORIAL 

^  PUBLICATION  FUND 

^  The  present  volume  is  the  seventh  work  published  by  the  Yale 

^  University  Press  on  the  Henry  Weldon  Barnes  Memorial  Publica- 

^tion  Fund.  This  Foundation  was  established  June   16,  1913,  by  a 

H  gift  made  to  Yale  University  by  the  late  William  Henry  Barnes, 

Esq.,  of   Philadelphia,  in   memory  of  his   son,  a  member  of  the 

Class  of   1882,  Yale  College,  who  died  December  3,   1882.  While 

a  student  at  Yale,  Henry  Weldon  Barnes  was  greatly  interested 

in   the   study   of   literature   and   in   the   literary   activities   of   the 

f~~college   of   his   day,  contributing  articles   to   some   of   the   under- 

cgraduate  papers  and  serving  on  the  editorial  board  of  the   Yale 

4^^ecord.  It  had  been  his  hope  and   expectation  that  he   might  in 

nafter   life   devote   himself   to   literary   work.   His   untimely   death 

^)revented  the  realization  of  his  hopes ;  but  by  the  establishment 

— >of   the   Henry   Weldon    Barnes   Memorial    Publication    Fund   his 

name    will    nevertheless    be   forever  associated    with    the   cause    of 

scholarship  and  letters  which  he  planned  to  serve  and  which  he 

loved  so  well. 


CO 

O 

o 

CO 


2G2412 


CONTENTS 

I.  Introductory  13 

II.  Divisions  of  French  Verse  20 

III.  '^hree  Systems  of  Versification  24 

IV.  French  Stress  and  Rhythm  35 

V.  ^he  Basic  Rhythm  of  French  Verse  49 

VI.  Stress  and  Variety  65 

VII.  Syllable  Counting  76 

VIII.  Management  and  Influence  of  ''Mute''  E    101 

IX.  Masculine  and  Feminine  Rhymes  137 

X.  Rhyme  Design  151 

XI.  Overflow  167 

XII.  Vers  Libre  180 


PREFACE 

The  pages  which  follow  form  a  monograph 
rather  than  a  book,  or  even  a  treatise.  They  have 
been  made  few  in  number  and  their  contents  have 
been  briefly  expressed,  so  that  the  work  may  be  read 
consecutively  from  end  to  end.  It  is  not  intended  for 
use  as  a  book  of  reference,  but  as  a  way  leading  to 
an  appreciation  of  French  verse. 

The  writer  does  not  believe  that  there  is  any  need, 
in  such  an  essay,  of  a  formal  bibliography.  He 
acknowledges  his  indebtedness  to  every  author,  in 
French,  German,  and  English,  from  whom  he  has 
been  able,  during  many  years  of  reading,  to  extract 
information.  Readers  who  desire  to  consult  standard 
authorities  on  the  various  features  of  French  versi- 
fication are  referred  to  Essai  sur  VHistoire  du  Vers 
Frangais^  by  H.  P.  Thieme,  published  by  Edouard 
Champion,  Paris,  1916,  an  admirable  explanatory 
guide  to  the  whole  subject. 

Historical  treatment  has  been  purposely  avoided, 
as  being  confusing  rather  than  enlightening  to  per- 
sons who  are  not  familiar  with  the  development  of 
the  French  language.  The  question,  therefore,  of  an 
historical  connection  between  modern  French  verse 

.  11 . 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

and  a  Popular  Latin  verse  of  accentual  basis,  so  ably 
discussed  by  the  late  M.  Gaston  Paris,  has  been 
neglected.  In  the  interest  of  simplicity  a  practical 
unanimity  of  pronunciation  is  assumed  for  the  edu- 
cated class  to  which  Malherbe  gave  the  law.  This, 
of  course,  is  a  convenient  expedient  merely,  but  its 
inexactness  as  a  fact  does  not  make  it  less  useful  as 
an  explanation  of  certain  differences  that  exist  to- 
day between  French  prose  and  French  verse. 

C.  C.  C. 


12 


I. 

INTRODUCTORY 

English-speaking  people  who  can  under- 
stand modem  French  poetry,  that  is,  the  work  of 
the  poets  from  Ronsard  to  the  present  day,  are  not 
rare;  but  few  of  us  are  able  to  read  it  as  something 
living,  and  to  enjoy  it  through  the  sense  of  hearing 
as  well  as  by  the  intellect  and  the  critical  faculty. 
In  our  own  poetry,  however,  we  feel  beauty,  tender- 
ness, or  impressive  power  through  the  union  of 
thought  and  sound.  As  we  read,  although  we  may 
not  read  aloud,  we  hear  a  music  which  accompanies 
and  enhances  an  order  of  ideas  above  and  be)^ond 
those  of  the  natural  world.  The  mere  thought,  if 
divested  of  the  versification,  is  only  a  study  in 
poetics;  it  is  not  the  poem,  but  merely  the  poem's 
basis. 

Such  separation  of  sense  from  sound  is  inevitable 
when  we  try  to  read  the  ancient  classics,  and  is 
commonly  practiced  when  we  are  interpreting  the 
poetry  of  most  of  the  nations  now  inhabiting  the 
European  continent.  There  are,  of  course,  some  spe- 
cialists in  classical  study  who  can  read  the  quantita- 

•13- 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

tive  verses  of,  let  us  say,  Theocritus  or  Horace  with 
satisfactory  approximation  to  the  ancient  delivery; 
but  Greek,  especially,  and  Latin  in  large  measure, 
are  too  far  distant  from  us  in  time  and  linguistic 
development  to  be  generally  appreciated  in  this  way. 
Indeed,  the  Athenians  themselves  devoted  years  and 
much  special  training  to  what  they  termed  "music" 
in  order  to  produce  in  their  scholars  true  enunciation 
and  delicacy  in  the  rendering  of  the  Hellenic  poets. 
As  for  our  actual  classroom  exercise  known  as  scan- 
ning classic  verse,  every  teacher  must  know  that  it 
is  pure  falsification,  it  being  a  substitution  of  Eng- 
lish principles  in  a  system  of  prosody  which  was 
based  upon  something  quite  different  from  our  own. 

Now,  on  the  other  hand,  when  we  turn  to  French 
verse  we  find  something  so  close  to  English  verse  in 
most  respects,  that  with  even  moderately  intelligent 
instruction  and  average  practice  in  pronouncing  the 
language  we  can  hope  to  learn  to  make  it  beautiful 
to  our  rhythmic  sense.  This  statement  is  not  intended 
to  imply  that  we  can  necessarily  make  it  agreeable 
to  a  listener;  for  very  few  of  us,  either  English  or 
French  in  speech,  can  render  poetry  effectively,  no 
matter  how  much  we  may  enjoy  the  sound,  or  imagi- 
nary sound,  of  our  own  reading.  The  art  of  elocution 
is  very  different  from  the  ability  to  read  verse  with 
sensuous  pleasure. 

In  saying  that  French  versification  is,  as  a  system, 
.14. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

very  close  to  that  of  our  own  we  do  not  deny  that 
the  best  practical  way  of  studying  it  is  to  regard  it 
as  very  different.  In  fact,  this  is  the  only  safe  view- 
point at  the  beginning  of  our  investigation.  We 
shall  assume  that  it  is  completely  unfamiliar  and 
foreign  in  spirit;  for  if  we  were  to  start  with  the 
idea  that  we  could  deal  with  it  just  as  with  our 
own,  French  versification  would  seem  either  defec- 
tive or  hopelessly  mysterious.  As  an  example  of  this 
mistaken  method  there  may  be  cited  an  incident 
during  a  recent  session  of  a  club  of  persons  interested 
in  the  study  of  modern  languages,  when  a  well- 
known  authority  in  English  contended  that  if  the 
first  of  these  two  lines  from  Verlaine: 

II  pleure  dans  mon  coeur 

Comme  il  pleut  dans  la  ville  .    .    . 

was  a  good  French  verse,  the  second  must  be  defec- 
tive. A  French  gentleman  of  literary  attainment 
combated  the  assertion,  but  failed  to  convince  the 
professor  of  English  because  neither  party  appreci- 
ated the  viewpoint  of  the  other. 

The  truth  is  that  French  versification  is  not  de- 
fective or  mysterious,  but  is  merely  based  upon 
certain  principles  which  are  inevitable  while  the 
French  language  is  what  it  is,  and  pronounced  as  it 
has  been  since  it  crystallized  from  the  dialects  of  the 
Middle  Ages. 

.15. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Let  us  begin  then  by  assuming  that  the  verse  in 
question  is  as  far  removed  from  English  verse  as 
Japanese  painting  is  from  French.  There  was  a  time, 
almost  within  our  memories,  when  a  Japanese  pic- 
ture was  considered  an  interesting  but  odd  attempt 
to  represent  objects  without  proper  attention  to 
what  Europeans  agree  upon  as  the  laws  of  perspec- 
tive. As  better  understanding  of  Japanese  history, 
religion,  tradition,  symbolism,  and  purpose,  has 
come  to  us  from  greater  familiarity  and  closer  study, 
we  have  discovered  grace  and  delicacy  where  we 
once  saw  only  disregard  of  proportion  and  absence 
of  atmosphere.  Without  pushing  an  analogy  too 
far,  is  it  not  possible  for  a  majority  of  the  readers  of 
French  to  acquire  a  taste  for  the  poetry  of  the  lan^ 
guage,  which  shall  equal  at  least  their  fondness  for 
its  prose'? 

It  must  be  admitted  that  at  present  this  taste 
is  not  common,  and  there  may  be  more  than  one 
reason  for  its  absence.  We  hear,  for  instance,  that 
people  do  not  read  poetry  in  these  days;  and  very 
probably  they  do  not  to  the  extent  that  they  once 
did.  But  in  spite  of  the  haste  of  the  age,  its  posi- 
tivism, its  commercial  tinge,  and  its  strife  for 
quickly  won  riches  or  distinctions,  there  are  readers 
of  poetry, — "regular"  poetry  as  distinguished  from 
the  "new"  verse, — in  the  English-speaking  world. 
Between   the  class   which  must  think  only  of  its 

.16. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

material  needs,  and  the  other  extreme  of  society, 
where  life  is  just  as  destructive  of  contemplation  by 
reason  of  competition  for  luxury  and  distinguished 
position,  there  is  a  middle  body  that  has,  at  times  at 
least,  the  leisure  and  the  inclination  to  love  the 
poets.  In  spite  of  the  modern  tendency  toward  town 
life,  millions  of  us  dwell  in  the  country,  or  in  corners 
of  cities,  where  tranquillity  is  to  be  found  even  if 
not  sought. 

Moreover,  from  the  hard-working  members  of  our 
lower  strata  rises  continually  a  generation  emerging 
from  poverty,  legions  who  are  discovering  literature 
and  art,  and  to  whom  therefore  poetry  has  a  charm 
that  it  can  hardly  exert  upon  others  who,  from 
earliest  years  having  had  books  presented  to  their 
notice  in  bewildering  numbers,  have  come  to  view 
them  as  part  of  "human  nature's  daily  food."  And 
in  all  ranks  we  have  the  young,  passing  rapidly 
through  the  epitome  of  the  development  of  the  race 
from  animalism  to  its  present  materialism,  and 
stopping  for  a  moment  in  the  stage  of  all  more  or 
less  primitive  peoples,  who  love  rhythm,  romance, 
and  lyric  expression. 

It  is  possible,  of  course,  that  many  of  us  are  with- 
out appreciation  of  the  poetry  of  our  mother  tongue. 
For  such  the  difficulty  is  insurmountable,  and  these 
must  not  expect  the  miracle  of  conversion  to  a  love 

.17. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

for  poetry  in  another  language.  Their  disability  is 
inherent. 

But,  given  a  fondness,  even  to  a  certain  degree 
cultivated  rather  than  inborn,  for  English  verse, 
very  likely  one  who  has  it  may  find  the  eighteenth 
century  in  France  barren  of  lyrics  and  lyric  senti- 
ment, with  a  stilted  and  self-conscious  versified 
drama.  Very  likely,  too,  the  great  classic  theatre  of 
Corneille  and  Racine  seems  too  far  away  from  our 
time  and  our  taste  to  make  a  sincere  appeal,  while 
the  poetry  of  their  earlier  brethren,  such  as  Charles 
d'Orleans,  and  Francois  Villon,  and  Pierre  Ronsard, 
however  pleasing  in  translation,  is  forbiddingly  ar- 
chaic in  language  for  a  reader  of  the  present  century. 
However,  all  these  objections  will  not  account  for 
lack  of  interest  in  the  work  of  the  Romantic  and 
Parnassian  poets,  little  of  which  practically  ante- 
dates 1830,  and  which  is  vast  in  amount,  full  of 
variety,  sincere,  lyric,  and  personal.  It  contains 
philosophy,  passion,  music,  color. 

If  we  are  indifferent  to  most  of  this  poetry  and 
to  that  which  has  succeeded  it  in  France,  the  reason 
can  be  only  that  we  have  studied  it  as  we  used  to 
study  what  Vergil  wrote  nearly  two  thousand  years 
ago,  and  have  not  learned  to  hear  it  as  we  must  hear 
Swinburne,  Tennyson,  Edgar  Poe,  and  Masefield. 
It  will  be  difficult  to  give,  unaided  by  the  voice, — 
to  give  in  print, — such  an  explanation  of  modem 

.18. 


CONCERNING   FRENCH  VERSE 

French  versification  as  shall  help  foreign  readers  to 
get  an  approximate  idea  of  its  movement  and 
melody;  but  the  attempt  ought  to  be  made  in  re- 
sponse to  the  general  and  marked  advance  in  the 
interest  taken,  within  the  last  decade,  in  living  con- 
tinental languages,  and  especially  for  the  benefit  of 
English-speaking  readers  of  French. 


19 


II. 

DIVISIONS  OF  FRENCH  VERSE 

Division  of  French  versification  into  periods 
by  more  or  less  arbitrary  assumption  of  dates  as 
boundaries  is  convenient  and  even  necessary.  It  is, 
however,  not  scientifically  justifiable.  There  has 
been  no  radical  change,  that  is,  no  change  of  princi- 
ple, in  it  since  the  earliest  verses  which  can  be  called 
French  rather  than  Latin.  As  we  are  not  concerned 
with  the  subject  historically,  let  us  ignore  the  evolu- 
tion of  what  we  find  existent,  and  say  that  we  shall 
deal  with  Classic  verse,  Romantic  verse,  and  with 
something  else,  which  appeared  in  the  last  quarter 
of  the  nineteenth  century,  called  Vers  Libre. 

By  the  first  of  these  three  kinds  of  versification, 
the  Classic,  is  meant  the  sort  that  was  accepted  from 
the  time  of  Ronsard,  in  1550,  until  about  1820. 
Malherbe  promulgated  the  rigid  code  that  governed 
it  and  Boileau  helped  to  fix  its  supposedly  inalter- 
able principles.  It  was  this  system,  not  distinct  from 
that  which  had  been  followed  by  French  versifiers 
before  the  Renaissance,  but  reduced  to  rules  and 
prohibitions,  which  dominated  all  the  poets  of  the 

•  20. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries,  including,  of 
course,  Comeille,  Racine,  Moliere,  Voltaire,  and  Le- 
brun. 

The  second  division,  the  Romantic  versification 
of  the  nineteenth  century,  is,  properly  considered, 
merely  a  modification  of  the  system  just  mentioned. 
Though  it  is  held  to  have  had  as  its  first  exponent 
Andre  Chenier,  whose  life  ended  during  the  Revolu- 
tion, and  though  Lamartine  published  his  earliest 
Meditations  in  1820,  Victor  Hugo  was  its  chief 
apostle.  Practically  all  its  peculiarities  are  exempli- 
fied in  his  poetry,  from  the  Orientales,  of  1827,  to 
the  last  part  of  the  Leg  end  e  des  Siecles^  which  ap- 
peared in  1883.  Alfred  de  Musset,  Leconte  de  Lisle, 
Theophile  Gautier,  Sully-Prudhomme,  Theodore  de 
Banville,  Frangois  Coppee,  and  Paul  Verlaine  are 
representative,  each  in  his  own  way  and  with  modi- 
fications, of  the  changed  prosody  which  accompanied 
the  Romantic  movement  in  French  letters. 

In  the  third  place,  there  has  existed  in  French 
from  about  1880  to  the  present  time  a  group  of 
versifiers  who  dare  to  treat  the  old  Classic  system 
much  more  disrespectfully  than  seemed  wise  to  the 
Romantic  poets.  The  brightest  star  among  them  is 
Henri  de  Regnier,  and  their  inspiration  appears  to 
have  been  Paul  Verlaine.  Among  their  better-known 
names  are  Gustave  Kahn,  Viele-Griffin,  Maeter- 
linck, Verhaeren,  Adolphe  Rette,  and  Arthur  Rim- 

•  21  . 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

baud.  The  peculiar  product  of  this  body  of  poets, 
for  they  should  hardly  be  called  a  school,  is  the 
Vers  Libre.  In  using  this  term  there  is  danger  of 
causing  confusion  between  a  new  and  anomalous 
thing  and  the  accepted  vers  libres  of  Classic  French, 
that  is,  the  "free  verses"  employed  by  Racine,  for 
instance,  in  the  choruses  of  Esther^  and  so  often  by 
La  Fontaine.  Those  were  nothing  more  than  series 
of  lines  of  varying  length  with  rhymes  known  as 
melees  or  "mixed,"  whereas  the  Vers  Libre  of  to- 
day, or  rather  yesterday,  is  not  only  in  contravention 
of  most  of  Malherbe's  rules,  but  is  seemingly  with- 
out what  could  be  called  rules  of  its  own.  It  is  gen- 
erally coupled  with  the  style  of  writing  named 
Symbolisme,  but  does  not  necessarily  accompany  it. 
Much  of  the  Symbolist  poetry  has  been  cast  in  purely 
Classic  or  Romantic  form,  although  there  is  evident 
congruity  between  the  vagueness  of  the  Symbolist 
thought  and  the  elusiveness  of  rhythm  in  a  kind  of 
versification  which  Anatole  France  says  the  poet 
himself  "cannot  scan,  and  the  cadence  of  which,  I 
confess,  I  cannot  catch." 

For  the  present  the  Vers  Libre  must  be  passed 
over  as  an  interesting  experiment,  much  more  inter- 
esting to  foreigners  than  such  innovations  usually 
can  be,  but  worthy  of  special  discussion  only  after 
Classic  verse  is  fully  understood.  Fortunately  modern 
French  poetry  of  undisputed  value  is  without  ex- 

.  22. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

ception  either  Classic  or  Romantic  in  form,  and 
these  two  divisions  can  best  be  viewed  together.  In- 
deed, they  can  hardly  be  explained  separately,  con- 
sisting as  they  do  of  a  system  and  its  modification, 
rather  than  being  two  systems. 


23 


III. 

THREE  SYSTEMS  OF  VERSIFICATION 

Before  we  take  up  French  verse  our  atten- 
tion must  be  given  briefly  to  versification  in  general. 
Fortunately  there  is  no  need  to  define  the  term,  for 
nothing  is  harder  to  reach  than  a  perfect  definition. 
The  point  to  be  made  clear  is  that  in  the  verse  of 
any  language  we  may  choose  to  investigate  there  is 
at  least  one  characteristic  which  is  basic  and  others 
that  are  merely  accessory.  Without  the  accessories, 
or  deprived  of  any  one  of  them,  the  verse  in  question 
has  lost  something,  but  is  still  verse.  When  it  loses 
the  basic  characteristic  it  ceases  to  be  verse  at  all. 
In  English,  for  one  case,  can  there  be  verse  without 
rhyme'?  Certainly,  for  some  of  our  greatest  poetry  is 
rhymeless.  There  is  often  a  striking  amount  of 
alliteration  in  it  also;  but  much  English  verse  is 
without  that  form  of  ornament.  Evidently  neither 
rhyme  nor  alliteration  is  indispensable  to  our  versi- 
fication. There  is,  however,  something  that  makes 
verse  of  written  or  spoken  language,  whether  it  be 
English,  French,  Latin,  German,  Greek,  or  any 
other  tongue.  That  necessary  thing  is  rhythm. 

.24. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Now  if  rhythm,  too,  does  not  seem  likely  to  be 
better  understood  by  our  giving  a  strict  definition  of 
it,  a  short  description  with  a  few  instances  will 
surely  make  our  meaning  plainer.  By  rhythm  we 
mean  the  recurrence  of  some  phenomenon  at  regu- 
lar, or  nearly  regular,  intervals.  It  may  be  the  recur- 
rence of  an  object  seen,  or  of  a  sound,  or  of  a  sensa- 
tion received  through  the  general  nerve  system  of 
the  body.  A  line  of  street  lights  at  a  fixed  distance 
one  from  another  is  a  rhythm;  so  is  the  series  of 
beats  coming  from  the  bass  drum  in  a  march ;  and  so 
is  the  succession  of  impressions  we  feel  from  the 
floor  of  a  factory  vibrating  to  the  shocks  of  heavy 
machinery.  The  fact  that  nature  is  full  of  rhythms, 
or  that  our  hearts  and  our  lungs  act  rhythmically, 
may  or  may  not  account  for  the  interest  we  take  in 
rhythmic  arrangement  of  every  kind;  but  whatever 
may  be  the  explanation  that  physiology  or  psy- 
cholog}^  has  to  offer,  the  nerves  of  men,  and  of  most 
of  the  animals  even  considerably  lower  in  the  scale 
than  men,  are  responsive  to  rhythms.  Everyone 
knows  from  experience  how  the  steady  drip  of  rain 
or  the  beat  of  a  steamer's  engines  will  either  soothe 
or  drive  one  to  extreme  restlessness,  according  to 
one's  nervous  composition  or  temporary  state.  For 
obvious  reasons  most  of  our  actions,  walking,  strik- 
ing, lifting,  pushing,  and  so  on,  are  rhythmic.  Man 
tends  at  a  very  early  stage  of  progress  to  employ 

.25. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

rhythm  and  to  rejoice  in  it.  He  advances  in  his  cere- 
monials by  a  series  of  leaps,  accompanying  his  rudi- 
mentary dance  with  thumps  on  some  drumlike  in- 
strument; and  these  rhythms  become  complicated 
later,  for  of  course  there  can  be  much  variety  in 
rhythm,  both  in  sound  and  design.  It  may  not  re- 
main a  simple  series  of  phenomena,  but  between  the 
sounds  or  objects  or  shocks  that  are  necessary  to 
mark  the  series  we  can  introduce  other  sounds  or 
objects  or  shocks,  which  will  break  up  monotony 
and  give  more  satisfaction  to  a  mind  that  has  passed 
the  first  stages  of  development.  The  fact  is  that 
civilized  man  does  not  like  the  rhythms  of  his  arts 
to  be  simple,  and  as  he  becomes  highly  refined 
aesthetically  he  even  prefers  them  elusive  rather 
than  obvious.  The  oriental  rug  gives  a  feeling  of 
rhythm  in  its  design  without  an  exactitude  of  ar- 
rangement which  would  force  us  to  recognize  it. 
The  style  of  ornamentation  known  as  Louis  XV  has 
ever  the  suggestion  of  symmetry  without  being  truly 
symmetrical,  and  its  rhythm  is  not  quite  a  series, 
nor  are  the  forms  that  go  to  make  the  series  quite 
identical  forms.  The  music  of  races  which  we  call 
barbaric  has  a  simplicity  that  refreshes  us,  but  as 
soon  as  a  modern  composer  makes  use  of  a  primitive 
rhythm  theme  he  finds  that  he  can  make  it  effective 
only  for  a  very  short  time,  and  that  he  must  begin, 
as  the  French  say,  to  embroider  on  it,  and  to  com- 

.26. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

plicate  it  and  to  halfway  disguise  it,  in  order  to 
escape  a  monotony  that  would  not  be  to  the  taste 
of  the  modern  audience. 

So  also  with  versification.  Beginning  in  absolute 
simplicity  of  rhythm  the  verse  of  every  people 
moves  on  to  complication,  and  finally  reaches  a  de- 
velopment in  which  its  rhythmic  structure  is  not 
only  highly  varied  but  often  hard  to  detect,  and 
sometimes  existent  only  in  theory.  But  however 
complicated  the  dance  or  the  music  or  the  design, 
there  is  a  rhythmic  basis  without  which  the  piece  of 
art  would  not  be  what  it  is  called.  Verse  is  based 
on  a  rhythm,  no  matter  how  much  that  fact  may  be 
obscured  by  other  characteristics  equally  obvious; 
and  we  must  return  to  the  consideration  of  rhythm 
itself  as  constituted  in  speech  if  we  are  to  establish 
the  essential  quality  of  versification. 

In  the  case  of  a  drum  there  is  a  rhythm  of  con- 
cussions. Beginning  with  a  series  of  blows  of  equal 
force  at  equal  intervals  of  time,  the  player  may  sub- 
divide these  intervals  by  other  blows,  singly  or  in 
little  groups,  and  he  may  also  vary  the  intensity  of 
such  blows  according  to  some  scheme,  so  that  the 
resultant  effect  is  what  is  known  as  "drumming  a 
tune."  He  has  produced  a  complicated  rhythm,  but 
the  phenomena  that  compose  it  are  of  only  one  kind. 
When  music  is  in  question  the  rhythm  is  not  by  any 
means  so  simple,  especially  if  the  instrument  used, 

.27. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

a  violin  for  instance,  is  one  that  can  give  a  scale  of 
notes  and  can  prolong  a  note.  Speech  is  the  product 
of  a  musical  instrument,  the  larynx  with  its  vibrat- 
ing "cords"  and  the  resonance  chambers  above  it, 
modified  by  the  stoppages,  releases,  and  other  noises, 
called  articulation.  Speech,  therefore,  has  facilities 
for  being  rhythmic  beyond  those  generally  put  to 
profit,  for  all  that  is  needed  for  rhythm  is  the  power 
to  break  continuity,  to  find  intervals  or  contrasts. 
Cicero  said,  "there  is  no  rhythm  in  what  is  con- 
tinuous. In  drops  of  water  falling  we  can  note  a 
rhythm  because  there  are  intervals  between  them. 
In  a  flowing  river  we  cannot."  Here  is  a  dictum  that 
permits  us  to  get  rhythm  in  speech  in  many  ways  if 
we  choose. 

In  English  the  most  marked  phenomenon  and 
therefore  the  one  which  more  than  any  other  de- 
termines our  rhythms,  is  what  we  shall  term  stress 
accent.  Just  what  this  is,  whether  loudness  of  utter- 
ance alone  or  a  certain  intensity  due  to  loudness 
combined  with  change  of  musical  pitch  and  also 
with  a  slight  protraction  of  the  word  or  syllable 
stressed,  is  not  vital  to  our  explanation  at  this  point. 
We  emphasize  unconsciously  certain  parts  of  words 
and  certain  words  in  our  sentences,  like  this:  We 
have  seen  him  to-day,  and  you  have  not.  It  is  the 
more  or  less  regular  recurrence  of  emphasis  or  stress 
accent  that  makes  prose  more  or  less  rhythmic,  and 

.28. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

English  verse,  reduced  to  its  lowest  terms,  is  char- 
acterized by  such  stress  accents  arranged  with  ap- 
proximate exactness  according  to  some  plan.  The 
word  approximate  has  been  used  because  the  ear  is 
tolerant  of  variation  in  the  length  of  the  intervals 
which  separate  the  stresses  both  in  music  and  verse. 
A  stanza  from  In  Memoriam  will  exemplify  a  very 
simple  and  regular  rhythm,  or  stress  scheme : 

I  envy  not  in  any  moods. 

The  captwt  void  of  nohXt  rage. 
The  linnet  born  withm  the  cage. 

That  nevtr  knew  the  sumnxtx  woods. 

Not  quite  so  clear,  but  really  as  regular,  is, 

I  sprang  to  the  J^irrup  and  /oris  and  he. 

I  ^a/loped,  Dirck  ^a/loped,  we  ^a/loped  all  three. 

In  our  verse  the  intervals  between  the  phenomena 
essential  to  the  rhythm  are  measured  generally  by 
the  number  or  the  length  of  the  syllables  filling 
them ;  but  in  certain  cases  the  proper  duration  of  the 
interval  is  obtained  by  a  natural  pause  in  utterance. 
Such  an  expedient  is  to  be  seen,  or  rather  heard,  in. 

Break,  break,  break. 

On  thy  cold  gray  stones,  O  Sea! 

Break,  break,  break. 

At  the  joot  of  thy  crags,  O  Sea! 

.29. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

The  terms  meter  and  metric  express  this  regularity 
in  the  measure  of  the  rhythm  intervals,  and  in  its 
exactness  of  measure  lies  the  distinction  of  Eng- 
lish verse  from  English  prose.  When  the  natural 
stresses  of  speech  attain  a  certain  degree  of  regu- 
larity in  recurrence  the  literary  form  ceases  to  be 
prose  and  has  become  metrical,  that  is,  verse.  This 
is  merely  another  way  of  saying  that  verse  approxi- 
mates more  closely  than  prose  to  perfect  rh^^thm. 
Our  verse,  however  artificial  in  construction,  re- 
quires no  sophistication  in  its  utterance.  Its  basis  is 
the  stress  accents  which  mark  the  natural  speech, 
and  a  natural  way  of  speaking  metrical  lines,  like 
those  just  quoted,  will  give  the  stresses  their  ap- 
pointed places  and  will  properly  measure  the  spaces 
between  them. 

Now,  it  may  well  be  that  other  languages  have 
not  the  same  striking  characteristic  as  ours,  and  it 
would  not,  therefore,  be  reasonable  to  expect  them 
to  make  use  of  that  as  the  chief  phenomenon  in  their 
rhythms.  Each  people,  on  the  contrary,  might  be 
counted  upon  to  employ  a  thing  peculiar  to  itself, 
and  obvious  in  its  language,  as  its  rhythm  basis.  In 
German  we  find  a  versification  whose  essential  is  the 
same  as  our  own,  and  therefore  we  read  German 
poetry  with  sensuous  pleasure,  even  when  we  under- 
stand it  very  imperfectly.  We  say  it  has  a  natural 
"swing"  to  it,  that  is,  natural  from  our  point  of 

.30. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

view.  Greek  verse,  however,  is  radically  different. 
Whatever  it  was  in  the  speech  of  the  Greeks  that 
corresponded  to  our  stress  accent,  it  was  evidently  of 
small  account  in  their  versification.  They  used  to 
mark  their  rhythm  by  the  contrast  of  long  and  short 
syllables.  The  Greek  hexameter,  verse  of  six  feet, 
reproduced  by  the  Romans  in  the  form  so  familiar 
to  m.ost  of  us  in  Vergil's  Aeneid,  is  an  example.  All 
through  the  classic  Greek  and  Latin  verse  we  find 
this  rhythm  principle,  which  depends  upon  some 
sort  of  scheme  of  "longs"  and  "shorts." 

If  a  system  of  versification  could  be  so  built  up, 
it  is  fair  to  infer  that  in  Greek  there  must  have  been 
a  clear  and  perhaps  invariable  relation  between  the 
long  and  the  short  syllables.  We  may  almost  believe 
that  it  was  a  ratio  of  two  to  one,  as  a  "long"  was 
taken  as  equivalent  to  two  "shorts."  Now,  in  the 
English  of  to-day  no  such  ratio  can  be  said  to  exist, 
nor  can  any  such  thing  be  found  in  French.  In  both 
of  these  languages  some  syllables  are  unquestionably 
longer  than  others,  some  at  least  twice  as  long  as 
some  others;  but  the  great  majority  of  vowels  and 
syllables  are  indifferent  in  length,  that  is,  duration, 
and  all  of  them  vary  greatly  according  to  situation 
and  circumstances.  For  that  reason,  if  for  no  other, 
a  system  of  versification  cannot  be  based  on  length 
in  English  or  French.  The  experiment  has  been  often 
tried  in  both  languages,  especially  in  French  at  the 

.31. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

time  of  the  Renaissance,  when  every  effort  was  made 
to  force  French  poetry  into  classic  moulds. 

The  Romans  evidently  had,  or  tried  to  have,  a 
sharp  enough  distinction  between  "longs"  and 
"shorts"  to  enable  them  to  adopt  the  Greek  princi- 
ple in  the  literary  speech  versified;  but  it  is  doubt- 
ful whether  that  principle  was  ever  a  natural  one  in 
Italy  outside  of  the  Greek  colonies.  At  any  rate,  in 
the  Roman  Empire,  filled  as  it  was  with  people 
whose  Latin  was  that  of  the  lower  orders,  often 
learned  from  the  legionary  soldiers,  and  spoken  with 
inborn  foreign  tendencies,  the  distinction  in  vowel 
or  syllable  quantity,  as  it  is  called,  could  not  be 
kept  up.  We  have  proof  that  even  in  classic  times 
Popular  Latin  verse  was,  like  our  own,  based  upon 
stress  accent.  Some  lines  cited  by  Tobler  to  illustrate 
this  point  show  how  the  soldiery  early  in  the  history 
of  the  Empire  made  verses: 

C<^sar  Gal\ia.s  subegit,  Nicowedes  C^sarem. 
Ecce  C^szr  nunc  triumphzt  qui  sub^git  GalVms. 
NicoT/z^des  non  triwTnphat  qui  subfgit  Casavtm. 

Here  no  relation  between  rhythm  and  quantity,  or 
length  of  syllables,  is  to  be  detected.  We  know  also 
that  the  first  Christian  hymns,  written  in  Latin,  were 
negligent  of  quantities,  and  dependent  for  rhythm 
upon  stress  accent.  Yet  French,  one  development 
of  the  Latin  language,  never  bases  its  versification 
upon  alternation  of  stressed  and  unstressed  syllables. 

.32. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

We  do  not  intend  to  say  that,  however  different 
in  basis,  systems  of  versification  are  wholly  diver- 
gent one  from  another.  The  modern  French  use  lines 
of  a  fixed  number  of  syllables  and  exact  the  use  of 
rhymes.  Stress  accent,  alliteration,  and  vowel  quan- 
tity they  make  effective,  but  only  incidentally. 
While  with  us  and  the  Germans  stress  accent  is  a 
fixed  and  all-important  characteristic  of  words  and 
phrases,  and  also  of  our  versification,  in  the  quanti- 
tative verse  of  the  ancients  the  normal  word  accents 
seem  to  be  in  complete  conflict  with  the  rhythm. 
In  French  the  stress  accent  is  to  some  degree  de- 
termined, and  for  the  rest  disregarded,  without 
affecting  rhythm  as  conceived  by  the  French  mind. 
Yet  it  does  affect  it,  just  as  a  clever  or  inspired  ar- 
rangement of  long  and  short  syllables  does  influence 
the  movement  of  both  English  and  French  verse, 
though  such  arrangement  is  not  to  us,  as  it  was  to 
the  Roman  of  the  Augustan  age,  a  primary  con- 
sideration. 

So  we  see  that,  human  speech  being  what  it  is, 
and  having  a  common  stock  of  elements,  the  three 
systems  of  versification,  which  may  be  called  respec- 
tively quantitative,  syllabic,  and  accentual,  have 
much  in  common.  What  is  essential  to  one  may  be 
no  more  than  the  ornament  of  another.  Rhyme, 
which  French  verse  cannot  do  without,  is  certainly 
an  immense  adjunct  in  our  own.  Quantity,  though 

•33- 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

not  obviously  important  in  either  French  or  English 
prosody,  is  of  the  greatest  value  to  both.  In  order  to 
compare,  as  far  as  necessary  for  our  purpose,  the 
French  with  the  English  versification,  one  important 
point  must  be  brought  into  a  sharp  light  at  once. 
Whatever  may  have  been  the  early  determining 
cause  of  its  character,  modern  French  verse  is  to  be 
understood  only  through  a  proper  appreciation  of 
the  great  peculiarity  of  the  French  language, — its 
weak,  shifting,  and  almost  intangible  stress  accent. 


34 


IV. 
FRENCH  STRESS  AND  RHYTHM 

If  it  ever  could  have  been  made  the  chief 
phenomenon  of  rhythm  the  stress  accent  in  French 
is  certainly  no  longer  available  for  that  purpose.  In 
the  first  place,  this  accent  is  not  strong.  Many  for- 
eigners are  inclined  to  deny  that  it  exists  at  all,  and 
most  of  them  are  unable  to  say  where  it  falls,  either 
in  the  word  or  the  phrase.  The  French  themselves 
are  generally  unsatisfactory  if  appealed  to  for  in- 
formation as  to  the  character  or  the  place  of  stress 
accents  in  their  own  sentences.  They  seem  to  be 
incapable  of  repeating  a  group  of  words  without 
changing  either  the  force  or  the  incidence  of  this 
emphasis,  and  are  even  less  able  to  appreciate  the 
fact  that  they  have  made  a  change.  French  phoneti- 
cians, of  course,  have  made  investigation  of  such 
stress  as  is  characteristic  of  their  language,  and  to 
them  we  must  go  for  confirmation  of  notions  on  so 
important  a  matter.  Just  why  the  average  French- 
man cannot  fix  definitely  upon  the  emphasized 
words  or  syllables  in  his  own  utterance,  the  discus- 
sion that  is  to  follow  may  possibly  show.  The  difiR- 

•35- 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


culty  experienced  by  an  English-speaking  person  in 
making  such  a  decision  about  what  the  Frenchman 
utters,  is  due  not  only  to  the  weakness  of  the  French 
stress,  but  also  to  the  fact  that  we  are  not  accus- 
tomed to  hearing  unstressed  vowels  clearly  enunci- 
ated. However  distinctly  an  Englishman  speaks, 
and  as  a  rule  he  speaks  much  more  distinctly  than 
an  American,  he  throws  all  the  unstressed  vowels 
into  a  kind  of  common  obscurity  of  sound.  So  we 
associate  stress  with  clearness.  We  stress  to  insure 
that  quality,  and  from  clearness  we  infer  stress. 

In  French  no  vowel  except  unaccented  e  can  ever 
be  treated  with  neglect.  With  this  reservation,  it  is 
exact  to  say  that  all  the  vowel  sounds  of  a  French 
word  have  equal  distinctness  of  pronunciation.  But 
however  much  this  fact  tends  to  deceive  our  ears, 
there  is  really  a  stronger  emphasis  given  to  the  last 
fully  sounded  syllable  of  the  isolated  word  than  to 
any  other.  Taking  each  word  separately,  it  is  proper 
to  say,  itat,  porter,  jument,  cour/r,  ci//,  representa- 
tif.  As  already  said,  this  stress  is  at  best  slight,  but 
its  existence  cannot  be  doubted.  The  early  speech  of 
the  region  now  called  France  was  almost  entirely 
made  up  of  words  naturally  developed  from  Latin 
forms.  In  every  case  of  such  development  the  sylla- 
bles following  the  chief  stress  of  the  Latin  word 
fell  completely  into  silence  or  were  reduced  to  a 
final  e.  This  left  a  language  composed  of:  (a)  mono- 

.36. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

syllables;  (b)  words  of  the  class  of  etat^  porter^ 
jument^  etc.,  just  cited;  and  of  (c)  a  third  kind,  in 
which  e,  unaccented,  was  retained  as  an  indistinct 
sound  after  the  stress,  such  as,  metne,  porte^  telle^ 
arbre,  montagne.  The  final  e  in  the  last  category  is 
less  than  a  syllable  in  value  always,  and  in  most 
instances  is  not  pronounced  at  all.  So  the  rule  is  that 
a  French  word  is  stressed  on  the  last  fully  pro- 
nounced syllable,  and  in  obedience  to  it  all  foreign 
words  adopted  in  France  have  taken  such  stress,  no 
matter  what  may  have  been  their  habit  in  the  lan- 
guage from  which  they  were  borrowed.  This  is  true 
of  the  sporting  terms  coming  from  the  English  now, 
such  as  steppeur,  jockey,  kandicaper,  and  quite  as 
true  of  the  words  introduced  from  Latin  and  Greek 
at  the  period  of  the  Renaissance,  and  of  those  com- 
pounded by  scientists  every  day  to  meet  new  needs. 
The  result  is  a  language  that,  as  far  as  individual 
words  go,  has  but  one  place  for  the  stress  accent. 
Whether  or  no  this  uniformity  of  position  is  in  any 
way  responsible  for  the  fact  that  to  the  French  the 
stress  accent  plays  so  small  a  part  in  the  character 
of  a  given  word,  and  being  negligible  has  become 
so  slight  as  to  be  almost  indistinguishable,  is  not 
worth  our  attention  here.  Perhaps,  feeble  as  it  is, 
this  stress  might  become  a  basis  for  rhythm  if  it  were 
a  perfectly  constant  thing. 

But  speech,  particularly  French  speech,  is  not  a 

•37- 


262412 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

string  of  single  words  separated  by  infinitesimal 
silences.  In  French  the  words  are  run  together  in 
little  groups,  the  connection  in  each  group  being 
very  close,  and  the  length  of  the  group  being  dic- 
tated by  the  sense,  that  is,  by  logical  punctuation, 
or  by  the  speaker's  need  of  taking  breath.  These  are 
known  as  sense  groups  or  breath  groups,  and  form 
the  true  units  of  speech,  which  words,  except  from 
the  grammarian's  point  of  view,  are  not.  One  divides 
a  phrase  unconsciously  more  or  less  like  this: 

Le  vieillard   restait  assis,  tantot  devant  le   seuil 

sous  I'auvent,  tantot  pres  de  I'atre,  selon  les  heures 

de  pluie  ou  de  soleil. 

Now  we  soon  find  that  every  word  in  a  group 
does  not  necessarily  have  a  stress.  In  unemphatic 
utterance,  only  here  and  there  a  stress  appears,  and 
then  on  the  last  syllable  of  each  group.  Here  are 
some  examples  taken  from  certain  phonetic  tran- 
scriptions by  M.  Paul  Passy. 

Nous  d'lrions  au  coniraire:  Oui  monsieur,  par  approba- 
tion  de  ce  qu'a  dit  Monsieur  3o\xxdain. 

Pour  bien  suivre  votre  pcnsee,  et  traiter  cette  mztiere  en 
ipWxXosophe,  il  faut  commencer,  selon  I'crdre  des  choses,  par 
une  txacte  connzissance  de  la  mztiere  des  lettxts  et  de  la 
6\^irente  mzniere  de  les  prononcer  toutes. 

It  will  be  noticed  that  although  the  words  stressed 
by  M.  Passy  are  all  so  treated  on  a  final  syllable, 

.38. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

there  are  some  without  any  stress  whatever.  This 
indicates  that  in  such  words  the  different  syllables 
have  practically  equal  importance  as  uttered  in  their 
particular  situations.  If  an  English  sentence  were 
to  be  marked  in  a  similar  manner,  so  as  to  indicate 
its  natural  stresses,  of  course  much  the  same  result 
would  be  reached,  except  that  our  words  when 
stressed  would  not  be  so  upon  final  syllables  only, 
but  each  would  have  its  emphasis  in  the  position 
characteristic  of  itself. 

However,  this  is  not  the  only  difference  between 
French  and  English  stress  accent  arrangement. 
There  is  another  which  gives  us  more  trouble.  When- 
ever a  Frenchman  speaks  with  emphasis,  unusual 
animation,  or  emotion,  he  stresses,  if  not  much 
more  heavily  than  in  common  usage,  by  putting  the 
stress  accent  of  the  important  word  on  some  syllable 
other  than  the  last.  As  an  isolated  word  charmante 
would  be  stressed  on  the  second  syllable;  but  M. 
Passy  begins  a  statement  about  Moliere's  Bourgeois 
Gentilhomme  in  this  way:  (We  stress  as  his  own 
phonetic  transcription  indicates.) 

Dans  cette  charmzntt  piece,  Moliere  met  en  scene  .   .  . 

Here  his  enthusiasm  causes  him  to  say  a  word  with 
the  stress  accent  distinctly  on  its  first  syllable. 

This  peculiarity  of  French  is  to  be  noted  every- 
where in  animated  speech.  It  follows,  therefore,  that 

•39- 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

two  readers  of  a  given  phrase  may  stress  its  words 
quite  differently,  a  thing  that  adds  to  the  difficulty 
of  determining  any  plan  of  stress  accents  in  a  given 
passage.  And  of  course  this  displacing  of  stresses 
can  be  more  frequent  on  one  occasion  than  on  an- 
other in  the  speech  or  reading  of  the  same  person. 
M.  Passy  notes  a  remark  made  by  one  of  his  pupils 
that  on  a  certain  day  his  lecture  had  been  almost  en- 
tirely free  from  such  changes  in  the  position  of  stress 
accents,  whereas  he  generally  made  great  use  of 
them.  The  fact  was  explained  by  fatigue  on  the  part 
of  M.  Passy  that  day.  He  had  spoken  lanquidly,  or, 
at  least,  without  emphasis.  The  writer  himself  heard, 
in  1911,  a  well-known  young  actor  of  the  Comedie 
Frangaise,  M.  Guilhene,  tell  a  foreigner  to  be  care- 
ful to  stress  French  words  on  their  final  syllables. 
He  gave  an  example  from  a  line  under  discussion, 
"c2intique  divinJ"  Then,  in  his  effort  to  teach  the 
pupil  to  declaim,  he  went  on,  "try  to  say  these  two 
words  with  more  life,  like  this,  'canXic^t  diwmV  " 
The  confusion  of  the  pupil,  a  German,  was  notice- 
able; but  the  teacher  felt  no  inconsistency. 

Finally,  we  must  increase  obscurity  by  admitting 
that  there  are  some  French  words  which  are  almost 
never  stressed  according  to  rule,  i.e.,  on  the  last 
syllable.  Following  out  what  has  been  shown  of  the 
effect  of  emphasis  on  the  place  of  stress  accent,  it  is 
easy  to  understand  that  words  generally  used  in  ex- 

.40. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


clamatory  fashion  can  acquire  stress  on  the  first  or 
second  syllable,  and  become  almost  characterized 
by  the  special  accent.  M^'chant,  coquin,  /w/serable, 
menteuv,  are  common  cases  of  this  peculiarity,  but 
there  are  scores  of  others  which  are  almost  invari- 
ably uttered  in  the  same  way. 

It  is  not  desirable  to  take  up  at  this  point  the 
question  of  secondary,  or  even  minor  stress  accents 
in  French  words  and  breath  groups.  Thus  far  our 
intention  has  been  to  make  clear  that  the  slight  con- 
trast it  offers  and  its  want  of  fixity  in  location, 
render  the  stress  accent  of  French  inadequate  as  a 
basic  phenomenon  of  rhythm.  If  it  plays  any  part 
in  versification,  and,  as  we  hope  to  show  in  proper 
place,  it  surely  does,  that  part  is  subordinate. 

Prosodic  experiments  made  at  various  times  with 
a  stress  accent  basis  have  had  no  success  with  French 
readers.  The  most  extensive  and  most  persistent  of 
such  attempts  have  been  made  by  Van  Hasselt,  a 
Belgian,  on  whom  no  doubt  the  influence  of  the 
Flemish,  in  which  he  also  versified,  was  exerted. 
That  language,  an  offshoot  of  Low  German,  has  a 
strong  and  fixed  stress,  which  appears  to  give  to 
speakers  of  French  in  Belgium  and  the  so-called 
Flemish  provinces  of  France  a  false  conception  of 
the  character  of  their  own  tongue  in  this  regard.  The 
work  of  Van  Hasselt,  though  effective  when  one  is 
forewarned   and   remembers   to  stress  heavily  and 

.41. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

regularly,  does  not  rank  as  French  verse.  It  is  really 
no  more  so  than  is  Sabatier's  translation  into  French 
of  Goethe's  Faust^  made  some  twenty-five  or  more 
years  ago,  in  which  the  Germanic  stress  rhythm  of 
the  original  is  imitated. 

It  is  really  unnecessary  to  explain  further  than 
has  already  been  done  why  the  French  language  has 
no  rhythm  based  upon  the  distinction  between  long 
and  short  syllables,  this  distinction  having  been 
almost  entirely  lost  before  Latin  developed  into 
French. 

It  has  been  said  that  in  French,  as  in  English, 
there  is  no  definite  ratio  between  short  and  long 
syllables.  Moreover,  in  French  at  least,  its  position 
in  the  breath  group  has  a  decided  influence  on  the 
length  of  any  long  or  half-long  syllable.  Some 
curious  tables  established  by  A.  Gregoire  in  Varia- 
tions de  Duree^  a  study  of  this  question  in  La  Parole^ 
1899,  demonstrate  the  variability  of  duration  of 
syllables  according  to  their  distance  back  from  the 
end  of  a  group  or  phrase.  These  variations  are  of 
course  slight  and  have  more  significance  to  students 
of  experimental  phonetics  than  to  readers  of  poetry. 
But  the  fact  that  they  exist  without,  as  a  rule,  being 
noticed  aurally,  adds  force  to  the  common  state- 
ment that  the  French  has  no  fixed  relation  between 
long  and  short  syllables.  Both  French  and  English 
avail  themselves  of  such  length  distinctions  as  they 

.42. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

can  render  effective  in  verse.  Neither  language  bases 
its  rhythm  upon  them. 

What  then  is  the  basis  in  French  verse,  which 
must  be  sought?  We  think  it  to  be  primarily  the 
syllable-distance  between  pauses.  By  the  expression 
syllable-distance  is  meant  the  distance  measured  in 
syllables,  just  as  material  distance  may  be  measured 
in  yards,  or  any  other  of  the  recognized  units  of 
length.  Of  course,  syllables  not  being  all  of  equal 
duration,  the  actual  distance  and  time  between 
pauses  varies;  but  as  regards  the  number  of  units 
counted  it  is  constant. 

To  make  use  of  visual  rhythm  for  a  moment,  let 
us  accept  the  old  critic's  phrase  that  poetry  is  ''la 
floraison  du  parler."  This  "bloom  of  speech"  finds 
support  in  formally  arranged  syllables,  as  real 
flowers  often  find  support  in  earthenware  pots.  If  we 
place  a  great  many  flowerpots  in  a  line  on  a  garden 
wall,  so  that  after  each  ten  there  shall  be  an  open 
space  of  a  foot,  we  shall  have  a  series  of  spaces  re- 
curring at  intervals  of  ten  pots.  The  pots  are  not 
all  of  the  same  size  or  shape  or  color;  but  there  are 
ten  of  them  in  each  division,  and  therefore  the 
pauses  can  be  seen  as  recurring  rhythmically.  Here 
the  phenomenon  used  to  form  a  series  is  not  a  light, 
a  post,  a  sound,  or  a  shock;  it  is  something  negative, 
it  is  the  absence  of  a  flowerpot.  Still  there  can  be 
no  doubt  that  the  arrangement  gives  us  the  im- 

•43- 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


pression  of  a  rhythm,  and  answers  to  the  description 
of  one.  There  is  contrast  and  regularity,  just  as  when 
we  make  a  series  of  black  marks  on  a  white  surface 
or  white  ones  on  black.  So  far  the  visible  rhythm 
has  been  exemplified;  but  the  same  kind  of  series 
may  be  conceived  of  in  sound.  A  series  of  brief 
silences  is  as  truly  a  rhythm  as  any  other  series.  A 
French  stanza  is  made  up  of  a  string  of  syllables, 
quite  as  a  paragraph  of  prose  is,  but  the  pauses, 
which  occur  in  prose  without  noticeable  regularity 
of  time  or  distance,  are,  in  the  verse,  spaced  with 
careful  calculation,  and  are  separated  one  from  an- 
other by  an  exact  number  of  syllables.  Nothing  can 
be  more  rigidly  insisted  upon  in  French  verse  than 
the  precise  counting  of  syllables.  It  is  the  only  un- 
controvertible necessity  in  the  art  as  practiced  by 
the  Classic  and  Romantic  versifiers.  Speakers  of 
English  are  not  as  a  rule  sensitive  to  rhythm  of  the 
kind  now  presented,  but  if  our  attention  is  called 
to  it  we  are  not  impervious  to  its  appeal.  Much  of 
the  rhythmic  effect  made  by  the  following  extract 
from  a  well-known  letter  of  Lincoln's  is  plainly  due 
to  the  regularity  of  pauses.  Being  in  prose,  this 
regularity  is  not  so  nearly  absolute  as  that  of  the 
silences  in  verse. 

If  there  be  in  it  any  statements  or  assumptions  of  fact 
.44. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

which  I  know  to  be  erroneous,  I  do  not  now  and  here  con- 
trovert them. 

If  there  be  in  it  any  inferences  which  I  may  believe  to 
be  falsely  drawn,  I  do  not  now  and  here  argue  against 
them. 

The  sooner  the  national  authority  can  be  restored,  the 
nearer  the  Union  will  be, — the  Union  as  it  was. 

If  there  be  those  who  would  not  save  the  Union  unless 
they  could  at  the  same  time  save  slavery,  I  do  not  agree 
with  them. 

If  there  be  those  who  would  not  save  the  Union  unless 
they  could  at  the  same  time  destroy  slavery,  I  do  not  agree 
with  them. 

In  this  extract  the  sense  dictates  the  places  of  pause; 
and  the  sense  of  the  following  lines  renders  inevi- 
table the  pauses  which  are  their  main  characteristic 
in  the  matter  of  rhythm. 

Thou  who  hast  slept  all  night  upon  the  storm. 

Waking  renewed  on  thy  prodigious  pinions, 

(Burst  the  wild  storm"?  Above  it  thou  ascended'st. 

And  rested  on  the  sky,  thy  slave  that  cradled  thee,) 

Now  a  blue  point,  far,  far  in  heaven  floating, 

As,  to  the  light  emerging,  here  on  deck  I  watch  thee, 

(Myself  a  speck,  a  point  on  the  world's  floating  vast.) 

Far,  far  at  sea. 

After  the  night's  fierce  drifts  have  strewn  the  shore  with 

wrecks. 
With  reappearing  day  as  now  so  happy  and  serene, 
The  rosy  and  elastic  dawn,  the  flashing  sun, 

•45- 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


The  limpid  spread  of  air  cerulean, 
Thou  also  reappearest. 

As  an  instance  of  a  form  that  is  just  between  prose 
and  verse,  this  sample  of  Walt  Whitman's  work  is 
very  serviceable.  Occasionally  one  is  led  to  think 
that  Whitman  versifies,  but  inspection  shows  that 
though  a  line  here  and  there  has  a  rhythm  of 
stresses,  like 

Trickle  drops!  my  blue  veins  leaving! 
or 

My  limbs,  my  veins  dilate,  my  theme  is  clear  at  last, 

or 

Tears !  Tears !  Tears ! 

In  the  night,  in  solitude,  tears, 

which  would  be  recognized  as  English  verses,  there 
is  no  continuation  of  such  a  stress  scheme.  His  lines, 
however,  often  display  a  certain  length  roughly 
measured  in  words,  and  if  he  had  been  more  exact 
in  his  observance  of  this  line  length  he  might  have 
produced  rhythms  on  that  basis.  As  it  is,  Whitman's 
writings  are  not  normal  English  verse,  and  yet  to 
most  ears  they  are  rhythmic  from  an  almost  regular 
recurrence  of  pauses.  They  are  more  rhythmic  than 
the  Lincoln  letter,  but  their  rhythm  is  chiefly  from 
the  same  cause.  When  true  verse  in  English  is  con- 
sidered we  discover  that  it  is  constructed  in  lines 

.46. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

separated  from  one  another  by  pauses;  but  neither 
the  number  of  words  nor  the  number  of  syllables  to 
a  line  is  invariable.  Our  attention  is  so  taken  up  by 
the  stress  accents  and  their  proper  spacing  either  by 
silences  or  intervening  unstressed  syllables,  that  the 
whole  number  of  words  or  syllables  is  of  small  con- 
sequence to  us.  In  the  lines  already  cited, 

Break,  break,  break. 

On  thy  cold  gray  stones,  O  sea ! 

we  are  satisfied  with  the  fact  that  each  contains 
three  great  stresses.  We  do  not  feel  any  inconven- 
ience because  one  has  three  syllables  and  the  other 
seven.  We  seem  to  be  measuring  from  line-end  pause 
to  line-end  pause  by  the  time  as  beaten  by  the  three 
stresses.  We  could  insist  upon  a  like  number  of 
syllables.  If  some  English  verse  has  observed  exact 
syllabic  measure,  the  observance  is  not  a  necessity 
to  us,  who  have  the  measure  by  stresses. 

To  pass  now  to  French.  It  will  be  noticed  that  the 
specimen  below  is  divided  by  pauses  whose  occur- 
rence is  dictated  by  the  sense  of  the  passage.  Whether 
it  is  verse  or  not  is  immaterial  here.  And  if  it  is 
verse,  we  are  concerned  only  with  the  rhythm  which 
results  from  pauses  at  a  fixed  syllable  distance  one 
from  another. 

Quoi!  dit-elle  d'un  ton  qui  fit  trembler  les  vitres, 
J'aurais  pu  jusqu'ici  brouiller  tons  les  chapltres, 

•47- 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


Diviser  Cordeliers,  Carmes  et  Celestins ; 
J'aurais  fait  soutenir  un  siege  aux  Augustins ; 
Et  cette  eglise  seule,  a  mes  ordres  rebelle, 
Nourrira  dans  son  sein  une  paix  eternelle! 
Suis-je  done  la  Discorde?  et  parmi  les  mortels, 
Qui   voudra   desormais   encenser   mes   autels? 

A  natural  reading  of  the  foregoing  produces  a  brief 
rest  for  the  voice  at  the  end  of  each  line,  that  is,  as 
French  prosodists  count,  after  each  twelfth  syllable. 
The  next  extract  will  show  a  silent  interval  after 
every  eighth  syllabic  division. 

Sous  I'herbe  pour  que  tu  la  cueilles, 
II  met  la  fraise  au  teint  verrrieil, 
Et  te  tresse  un  chapeau  de  feuilles, 
Pour  te  garantir  du  soleil. 

Puis  lorsque  sa  besogne  est  faite, 
Et  que  son  regne  va  finir, 
Au  seuil  d'avril  tournant  la  tete, 
II  dit :  "Printemps,  tu  peux  venir !" 

Before  continuing,  we  must  remark  that  a  rhythm 
of  this  peculiar  kind,  a  rhythm  in  which  short 
silences  are  spaced  by  sounds  forming  sequences 
much  longer  in  point  of  time,  strikes  us  rather  as 
sounds  occasionally  broken  by  rests,  and  we  think 
of  stanzas  like  the  preceding  as  measured  lines  of 
syllables.  We  call  it  metrical,  but  it  is  rhythmic  as 
well,  for  the  measure  is  from  pause  to  pause. 

.48. 


V. 
THE  BASIC  RHYTHM  OF  FRENCH  VERSE 

The  French  versifiers  measure  their  lines 
with  extreme,  some  think  excessive,  accuracy.  A 
strict,  and  in  man)^  respects  arbitrary,  code  of  rules 
governs  the  counting  of  the  syllables.  As,  with  even 
the  most  superficial  purpose,  one  must  know  the  out- 
lines and  application  of  this  code  in  order  to  appreci- 
ate the  sound  of  French  verse,  in  another  chapter 
we  shall  present  some  consideration  of  it.  Here  it  is 
sufl^cient  to  say  that  the  vowel  e  is  not  considered  a 
syllable  when,  having  no  accent  mark,  it  is  the  last 
vowel  of  a  line;  nor  does  e,  without  accent  mark, 
at  the  end  of  any  word  have  syllabic  value  when 
the  following  word  begins  with  a  vowel  or  mute  h. 
In  all  other  cases  e  forms  a  syllable  with  the  con- 
sonant preceding  it.  (We  refer  to  e  in  its  own  char- 
acter as  a  vowel,  of  course,  and  not  as  a  component 
of  the  representations  of  single  sounds,  ei,  eau,  ce, 
ue,  eu,  oeu,  known  as  digraphs  and  trigraphs.)  For 
example,  in  the  first  line  of  the  extract  last  quoted 
the  final  be  of  herbe  is  counted  a  syllable,  while 
the  -les  of  the  end  word,   cueilles,  is  not.  In  the 

.49. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

second  line,  the  final  e  of  f raise  disappears  because 
elided  with  the  au  following  it.  Hence  each  of  these 
lines  contains  eight  syllables.  For  the  present,  all 
unaccented  e\  which  have  syllabic  value  should  be 
pronounced  like  e  in  le^  me,  de,  etc.  .  .  . ,  that  hav- 
ing been  the  natural  pronunciation  in  the  early  part 
of  the  seventeenth  century.  Two  lines  will  ex- 
emplify the  practice,  which,  though  archaic,  is  by 
no  means  entirely  abandoned  by  French  readers  of 
verse. 

Puis  lorsque  sa  besogne  est  faite 
Fuis  lorsqeu  sa  besognest  faite 

Et  que  son  regne  va  finir 
Et  queu  son  regneu  va  finir 

(The  elision  of  final  e  in  besogne,  before  est,  is  in- 
dicated for  the  inexperienced  reader,  although  the 
indication,  by  ^^,  of  the  joining  of  n  and  est  is 
probably  unnecessary.) 

Now  it  may  well  be  asked  if  this  rhythm,  which 
seems  to  consist  in  separating  lines  of  fixed  numbers 
of  syllables  by  slight  pauses  is  all  there  is  in  French 
versification.  Decidedly  not.  Yet  it  is  all  that  is 
basic,  and  whatever  else  there  may  be  merely  em- 
phasizes or  modifies  it.  Rhyme  and  stress  are  most 
active  in  those  offices. 

Anyone  who  knows  what  rhyme  is  in  English  can 
.50. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

dispense  with  explanation  of  it  in  French,  so  we 
shall  notice  at  once  its  function  in  the  rhythm. 

Every  line  in  the  two  quotations  just  given  ends 
with  a  syllable  that  rhymes  with  the  last  syllable  of 
some  other  line  near  at  hand.  This  is  a  rule  without 
exception  in  French  prosody,  and  therefore  is  prob- 
ably motived  by  necessity  or  a  very  strong  reason. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  rhyme  announces  the  pause. 
Furthermore,  the  pause  at  the  end  of  many  a  line  is 
no  longer,  or  at  least  no  more  obvious,  than  some 
natural  interruption  of  utterance  in  the  body  of  the 
same  line.  A  glance  at  the  fourth  and  fifth  of  the 
lines  following  will  exemplify  what  is  meant. 

Le  soleil  froid  donnait  un  ton  rose  au  gresil, 
Et  le  ciel  de  novembre  avait  des  airs  d'avril. 
Nous  voulions  profiter  de  la  belle  gelee. 
Moi  chaudement  vetu,  toi  bien  emmitouflee 
Sous  le  manteau,  sous  la  voilette  et  sous  les  gants, 
Nous  franchissions,  parmi  les  couples  elegants. 
La  porte  de  la  blanche  joyeuse  avenue   .    .    . 

After  the  word  emmitouflee  of  line  4  there  is  no 
tendency  to  arrest  the  voice,  and  after  elegants^ 
which  closes  line  6,  there  is  no  reason  to  pause  longer 
than  after  franchissions^  the  second  word  in  the  same 
line.  In  such  cases  the  rhyme  is  of  great  value  to  the 
rhythm  because  it  habitually  indicates  that  the  line 
is  terminated,  whether  the  pause  is  or  is  not  marked 
enough  to  make  itself  felt.   It  should  not  be  for- 

.51. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

gotten  that  verse  was  originally  intended  for  the 
ear  and  not  for  the  eye,  though  our  custom  of  read- 
ing rather  than  listening  causes  us  to  ignore  that 
fact.  As  a  sort  of  signal  that  the  line  is  complete 
the  rhyme  is  an  aid  to  the  pause  and  often  a  sub- 
stitute for  it,  and  in  this  function  is  practically  an 
essential  of  French  verse  rhythm.  The  musical  effect 
of  the  rhyming  syllables  is  another  matter.  That 
quality  of  it  can  for  the  present  be  treated  as  an 
ornament  of  the  verse,  but  far  from  being  indis- 
pensable to  its  structure.  The  role  of  rhyme  in  the 
kind  of  rhythm  which  is  produced  by  pauses  at  cer- 
tain intervals  is  much  like  that  of  color,  if  we  were 
to  introduce  color  into  our  series  of  flowerpots  on 
the  garden  wall.  Let  us  suppose  that  the  tenth  pot 
is  blue,  the  twentieth  blue,  the  thirtieth  red  and  the 
fortieth  red,  while  the  pots  which  do  not  immedi- 
ately announce  an  open  space  are  of  dull  and  un- 
noticeable  tint.  The  eye  is  aided  by  the  presence  of 
a  color  which  it  expects,  and  from  it  gets  something 
to  measure  by,  even  if  the  following  space  is  very 
small  or  quite  absent.  The  ear  accustomed  to  rhyme 
is  similarly  helped  by  the  arrival  of  a  sound  that  it 
has  learned  to  wait  for  just  before  it  feels  the  line 
to  be  complete.  Without  such  an  adjunct  the  rhythm 
of  most  French  verse  would  hardly  be  marked 
enough  to  deserve  the  name. 

But  what  we  have  just  said  of  rhyme  is  only 
.52. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

partly  true,  after  all.  It  cannot  apply  to  the  first 
of  two  or  more  rhyming  final  syllables.  Only  after 
having  received  the  sound  can  the  ear  expect  its 
return  and  hail  it  as  the  signal  of  the  line's  ending. 
Hence  in  the  first  of  two  rhyming  lines  the  final 
syllable  is  not  known  by  its  sound  to  be  final.  It 
must  be  apprehended  as  such  because  the  ear  has 
learned  to  estimate  the  number  of  syllables  already 
passed  over.  To  aid  this  estimate,  we  discover  some- 
thing else,  namely,  the  stress  accent  that  terminates 
the  line.  Now,  every  rhyme  syllable  must  be  a 
prominent  one  if  it  is  to  be  effective,  and  the  stress 
accent  gives  it  the  necessary  relief;  so  in  reading  or 
listening  we  learn,  in  French,  to  feel  that  a  stress 
coming  at  about  the  instant  when  the  rhyme  and  the 
pause  are  due,  is  an  intimation  that  the  break  in  the 
continuity  has  come.  The  stress  accent,  then,  is,  with 
the  rhyme,  an  inevitable  adjunct  to  the  basic  rhythm. 
In  strictly  Classic  versification  it  is  indispensable. 
The  French  versifier's  problem,  for  these  reasons,  is 
threefold;  he  must  produce  lines  of  a  fixed  number 
of  syllables;  he  must  find  rhymes;  and  he  must  use 
words  in  such  a  way  that  the  last  syllable  of  each 
line  will  be  stressed.  To  do  this  is  to  accomplish  the 
simplest  French  rhythm. 

In  the  versification  which  is  called  Classic  it  was 
usual  for  the  line  to  be  complete  in  thought,  that  is, 
to  be  a  sentence  or  phrase,  which,  as  a  logical  whole, 

•53- 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

is  naturally  followed  by  a  pause.  The  last  word  of 
the  line  therefore  received,  as  is  normal  in  French, 
a  distinct  stress.  Such  a  solution  of  the  problem 
furnished  what  was  needed, — the  pause  and  the 
prominence  of  the  rhyme  syllable.  Here  is  a  clear 
case  of  it  from  Racine: 

Mais,  quelque  noble  ardeur  dont  ils  puissent  bruler, 
Peuvent-ils  de  leur  roi  venger  seuls  la  querelle*? 
Pour  un  si  grand  ouvrage  est-ce  assez  de  leur  zele? 
Doutez-vous  qu'Athalie,  au  premier  bruit  seme 
Qu'un  fils  d'Okosias  est  ici  renferme, 
De  ses  fiers  etrangers  assemblant  les  cohortes, 
N'environne   le   temple,   et   n'en    brise   les   portes? 
Suffira-t-il  contre  eux  de  vos  ministres  saints, 
Qui  levant  au  Seigneur  leurs  innocentes  mains, 
Ne  savent  que  gemir  et  prier  pour  nos  crimes, 
Et  n'ont  jamais  verse  que  le  sang  des  victimes? 

And  here  is  another  by  Boileau : 

On  dit  que  I'abbe  Roquette 
Preche  les  sermons  d'autrui ; 
Moi,  qui  sais  qu'il  les  achete, 
Je  soutiens  qu'ils  sont  a  lui. 

These  verses  should  be  read  quite  naturally, 
smoothly,  with  careful  observance  of  the  rests  be- 
tween lines,  and  with  a  distinct,  but  not  sudden  nor 
loud  stress  on  the  rhymes.  The  general  effect  will 
not  be  damaged  for  the  English  ear  if  the  reader 
does  not  yet  know  how  to  give  its  exact  quota  of 

.54. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

syllables  to  each  line,  provided  he  observes  the  rule 
laid  down  on  page  49  as  to  unaccented  e;  but  the 
monotony  of  the  verses  will  be  unpleasantly  evident. 
The  schemes,  in  their  essentials,  are  simply  these : 

aaaaaaaaaaax,  ... 
aaaaaaaaaaax,  ... 
aaaaaaaaaaay,  ... 
aaaaaaaaaaay,  ...  etc. 
and 

a  a  a  a  a  a  X,  ... 

a  a  a  a  a  a  y,  ... 

a  a  a  a  a  a  X,  ... 

a  a  a  a  a  a  y,  ... 

The  verses  that  are  to  follow  should  now  be  read 
in  just  the  same  manner,  and  read  aloud  or  mur- 
mured, as  the  eye  alone  will  not  give  a  true  con- 
ception of  the  effect.  The  English  principle  of 
rhythmic  arrangement  of  stresses  should  be  care- 
fully ignored,  and  the  lines  read  off  without  em- 
phasis, except  a  stress  accent  on  each  rhyming  sylla- 
ble. The  pause  after  every  line  must  be  brief  but 
unmistakable.  Apart  from  that,  as  little  attention  as 
possible  should  be  given  to  meaning  or  punctuation. 
Of  course  this  process  will  not  be  proper  reading  of 
French  verse.  It  will  falsify  it  horribly,  by  the 
omission  of  many  characteristics  which  combine  to 
give  the  verse  beauty.  The  object  of  the  proceeding 
recommended  is  to  impress  on  the  memory  in  the 


CONCERNING   FRENCH  VERSE 

beginning  an  indelible  image  of  the  rigid  frame- 
work in  which  a  French  poem  is  mounted.  Later,  the 
various  subterfuges  and  licenses  by  which  monotony 
is  dissipated  will  be  made  evident,  as  well  as  other 
rhythms  that  enter  into  the  general  result,  but  which 
do  not  aifect  the  basic  structure  that  has  been 
indicated. 

J'ai  perdu  ma  force  et  ma  vie, 
Et  mes  amis  et  ma  gaite ; 
J'ai  perdu  jusqu'  a  la  fierte 
Qui  faisait  croire  a  mon  genie. 

Quand  j'ai  connu  la  Verite, 
J'ai  cru  que  c'etait  une  amie ; 
Ouand  je  I'ai  comprise  et  sentie, 
J'en  etais  deja  degoute. 

Et  pourtant  elle  est  eternelle, 
Et  ceux  qui  se  sent  passes  d'elle 
Ici-bas  ont  tout  ignore. 

Dieu   parle,   il   faut   qu'on   lui   reponde; 
Le  seul  bien  qui  me  reste  au  monde 
Est  d'avoir  quelquefois  pleure. 


de  Musset. 


Si  vous  n'avez  rien  a  me  dire, 
Pourquoi  venir  aupres  de  moi? 
Pourquoi  me  faire   ce  sourire 
Qui  tournerait  la  tete  au  roi? 
Si  vous  n'avez  rien  a  me  dire, 
Pourquoi  venir  aupres  de  moi? 

.56. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Si  vous  n'avez  rien  a  m'apprendre, 
Pourquoi  me  pressez-vous  la  main? 
Sur  le  reve  angel  ique  et  tendre, 
Auquel  vous  songez  en  chemin. 
Si  vous  n'avez  rien  a  m'apprendre, 
Pourquoi  me  pressez-vous  la  main? 

Si  vous  voulez  que  je  m'en  aille, 
Pourquoi  passez-vous  par  ici? 
Lorsque  je  vous  vois,  je  tressaille, 
C'est  ma  joie  et  c'est  mon  souci. 
Si  vous  voulez  que  je  m'en  aille, 
Pourquoi  passez-vous  par  ici? 

Hugo. 

Le  laboureur  m'a  dit  en  songe:  "Fais  ton  pain, 
Je  ne  te  nourris  plus,  gratte  la  terre  et  seme." 
Le  tisserand  m'a  dit :  "Fais  tes  habits  toi-meme." 
Et  le  magon  m'a  dit:  'Trends  ta  truelle  en  main." 

Et  seul,  abandonne  de  tout  le  genre  humain, 
Dont  je  trainais  partout  I'implacable  anatheme, 
Quand  j'implorais  du  ciel  une  pitie  supreme, 
Je  trouvais  des   lions   debout   dans   mon   chemin. 

J'ouvris  les  yeux,  doutant  si  I'aube  etait  reelle: 
De  hardis  compagnons  sifflaient  sur  leur  echelle, 
Les  metiers  bourdonnaient,  les  champs  etaient  semes. 

Je  connus  mon  bonheur  et  qu'au  monde  ou  nous  sommes 
Nul  ne  pent  se  vanter  de  se  passer  des  hommes ; 
Et  depuis  ce  jour-la  je  les  ai  tous  aimes. 

•57- 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Que  le  Seigneur  est  bon !  que  son  joug  est  aimable ! 
Heureux  qui  des  I'enfance  en  connait  la  douceur! 
Jeune  peuple,  courez  a  ce  maitre  adorable ; 
Les  biens  les  plus  charmants  n'ont  rien  de  comparable 
Aux  torrents  de  plaisirs  qu'il  repand  dans  un  coeur. 
Que  le  Seigneur  est  bon!  que  son  joug  est  aimable! 
Heureux  qui  des  I'enfance  en  connait  la  douceur ! 

Un  oiseau  siffle  dans  les  branches 
Et  sautille  gai,  plein  d'espoir, 
Sur  les  herbes,  de  givre  blanches, 
En  bottes  jaunes,  en  frac  noir. 

C'est  un  merle,  chanteur  credule. 
Ignorant  du  calendrier. 
Qui  reve  soleil,  et  module 
L'hymne  d'avril  en  fevrier.  .  .  . 

Lustrant  son  aile  qu'il  essuie, 
L'oiseau  persiste  en  sa  chanson, 
Malgre  neige,  brouillard  et  pluie 
II  croit  a  la  jeune  saison.  .  .  . 

A  la  nature  il  se  confie, 

Car  son  instinct  pressent  la  loi. 

Qui  rit  de  ta  philosophie. 

Beau  merle,  est  moins  sage  que  toi ! 

Chacun  s'en  forme  un  agreable  augure. 
Le  seul  Amour,  I'Amour  seul  en  murmure. 
Qu'a-t-il  commis?  Pourquoi  seul  immole, 
D'entre  les  dieux  sera-t-il  exile 
Quittera-t-il  ces  demeures  heureuses, 

.58. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Ces  regions  pures  et  lumineuses, 
Sejour  brillant  de  gloire  et  de  clarte, 
Lieux  consacres  a  la  Felicite, 
Aux  doux  Plaisirs,  enfants  de  I'lnnocence, 
Plaisirs  qu'echauffe  et  nourrit  sa  presence, 
Vifs  sans  tumulte,  eternels  sans  ennui, 
Et  que  les  dieux  ne  tiennent  que  de  lui? 

After  having  practiced  reading  in  this  way  till 
the  mind  is  thoroughly  familiar  with  the  regular, 
simple,  and  monotonous  scheme  just  furnished,  one 
is  not  likely  to  lose  sight  of  the  rigid  plan  upon 
which  all  Classic  and  Romantic  verse  is  built.  It  is 
the  row  of  flowerpots,  always,  spaced  by  intervals, 
with  the  pots  that  announce  those  intervals  colored 
alike  in  twos  or  threes.  We  suggest  that  the  stressed 
syllable  be  represented  by  a  flowerpot  somewhat 
larger  than  the  others.  Now,  with  such  assistance 
the  eye  will  never  fail  to  perceive  the  principle  of 
the  arrangement,  even  if  certain  variations  of  size, 
or  occasional  openings,  may  occur  among  the  units 
that  are  between  the  significant  spaces. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  almost  every  French  line 
longer  than  eight  syllables  contains  a  pause,  some- 
times indicated  by  the  punctuation,  sometimes  per- 
mitted by  the  natural  grouping  of  words  according 
to  the  sense.  This  pause  in  the  body  of  the  line  is 
known  as  a  cesura.  In  lines  of  eight  syllables  and 
less  it  is  by  no  means  obligatory  and  its  position, 

.59. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

when  existent,  is  very  variable;  in  lines  of  more 
than  eight  syllables  it  is  practically  always  observed, 
and  its  place  is,  generally  speaking,  a  fixed  one.  In 
the  twelve-syllable  line,  the  Alexandrine,  it  appears 
after  the  sixth  syllable;  in  the  ten-syllable  line  after 
the  fourth  or  fifth;  it  comes  after  the  fifth  of  the 
eleven-syllable  line;  and  where  there  are  nine  sylla- 
bles it  may  be  after  the  third  or  after  the  fifth.  Ex- 
cept in  the  Classic  twelve-  and  ten-syllable  lines 
there  is,  however,  great  irregularity  about  its 
position. 

What  is  the  reason  and  what  is  the  effect  of  such 
a  pause *?  In  the  case  of  the  longer  lines  language 
cannot  be  forced  to  run  for  so  many  syllables  with- 
out grouping  its  words,  hence  a  break  of  continuity 
here  and  there.  The  effect  of  such  breaks  is  most 
advantageous  as  regards  the  sound  of  the  versifica- 
tion, whose  basic  rhythm  it  varies  without  obscur- 
ing it.  Read  now  some  lines  which  have  lately  been 
used  to  exemplify  that  rhythm,  giving  them,  this 
time,  a  more  expressive  utterance,  grouping  words 
by  the  sense  and  pausing  where  the  cesura  is  marked 
by  a  vertical  bar,  never  forgetting,  though,  the  main 
diagram's  line-end  pause,  with  its  stressed  rhyming 
syllable  immediately  before  it. 

Chacun  s'en  forme   |   un  agreable  augure. 
Le  seul  Amour,   |   I'Amour  seul  en  murmure. 
Qu'a-t-il  commis?  |  Pourquoi  seul  immole, 

.60. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

D'entre  les  dieux  |  sera-t-il  exile? 
Quittera-t-il   |  ces  demeures  heureuses, 
Ces  regions  pures  |  et  lumineuses, 
Sejour  brillant   |   de  gloire  et  de  clarte, 
Lieux  consacres  a  la  Felicite, 
Aux  doux  Plaisirs,  |  enfants  de  1' Innocence, 
Plaisirs  qu'echauffe  et  nourrit  sa  presence, 
Vifs  sans  tumulte,  |  eternels  sans  ennui, 
Et  que  les  dieux  |  ne  tiennent  que  de  lui  ? 

On  reading  these  ten-syllable  lines  with  a  cesura 
after  the  fourth,  we  find  the  old  diagram  modified. 
Yet  it  is  monotonous  because  the  Classic  practice 
was  to  assign  a  definite  place  to  the  cesura.  The 
Romantic  poets  felt  the  advantage  of  freeing  the 
cesural  pause  and  of  using  it  in  different  parts  of 
the  line.  This  had  been  only  occasional  in  the  prac- 
tice of  the  Classic  versifiers,  just  frequent  enough  to 
make  a  diversion  from,  a  regularity  that  was  too 
strict  even  for  the  taste  of  the  seventeenth  and 
eighteenth  centuries.  In  the  nineteenth  the  irregu- 
larity became  so  general  as  to  be  almost  a  requisite 
of  good  verse.  Note  what  variety  of  grouping  of 
syllables  is  to  be  seen  here  within,  and  independent 
of,  the  scheme  of  line-end  rests.  Some  lines  are  so 
punctuated  as  to  afford  practically  two  cesuras. 

lis  sc  batterit —  |  combat  terrible !   |  — corps  a  corps. 
Voila  deja  longtemps  |  que  leurs  chevaux  sont  morts; 
lis  sont  la  seuls,  |  tous  deux,  dans  une  lie  du  Rhone. 

.61. 


CONCERNING   FRENCH  VERSE 

Le  fleuve  a  grand  bruit  |  roule  un  flot  rapide  et  jaune, 
Le  vent  trempe  en  sifflant  |  les  herbes  dans  I'eau. 
L'archange  saint  Michel  |  attaquant  Apollo 
Ne  ferait  pas  un  choc  |  plus  etrange  et  plus  sombre. 
Deja  bien  avant  I'aube  |  ils  combattent  dans  I'ombre. 
Qui,  cette  nuit  |  eut  vu  s'habiller  ces  barons, 
Avant  que  la  visiere  |  eut  derobe  leurs  fronts, 
Eut  vu  deux  pages  blonds,  |  roses  comme  des  filles, 
Hier,  c'etaient  deux  enfants  |  riant  a  leurs  families. 
Beaux,  charmants ;  |  aujourd'hui,  |  sur  ce  fatal  terrain, 
C'est  le  duel  effrayant  |  de  deux  spectres  d'airain. 

It  must  be  admitted  that  cesura  is  often  found 
where  no  punctuation  compels  it,  and  no  grouping 
of  words  suggests  it.  In  such  a  case  it  is  the  natural 
need  of  a  respite  in  a  long  line,  and  the  analogy  of 
preceding  lines,  that  really  induce  it.  There  it  is 
usual  and  permissible.  Let  us  take  an  example, 
noting  especially  lines  5,  7,  and  9,  in  which,  if  they 
were  not  verses,  there  would  hardly  be  any  rest  for 
the  voice  before  the  line-end. 

Parle,  parle.  Seigneur,  |  ton  serviteur  ecoute : 
Je  dis  ton  serviteur,  |  car  enfin  je  le  suis ; 
Je  le  suis,  je  veux  I'etre,  |  et  marcher  dans  ta  route 
Et  les  jours  et  les  nuits. 

Remplis-moi  d'un  esprit  qui  me  fasse  comprendre  -^ 
Ce  qu'ordonnent  de  moi  |  tes  saintes  volontes, 
Et  reduis  mes  desirs  au  seul  desir  d'entendre 
Tes  hautes  verites. 

.62. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


Mais  desarme  d'eclairs  ta  divine  eloquence,  ^~' 

Fais  la  couler  sans  bruit  |  au  milieu  de  mon  coeur :  .  .  . 

No  one  can  have  read  what  has  just  been  quoted 
without  noticing  that  the  cesura  is  not  the  only  rest 
permissible  or  obligatory  in  a  line.  Human  speech  is, 
after  all,  not  quite  as  regular  in  arrangement  as  a 
row  of  flowerpots,  but  must  come  out  in  the  groups 
of  words  that  our  thought  welds  together.  When  we 
have  come  to  feel  the  basic  rhythm,  and  have 
learned  to  use  the  cesura  with  it,  we  may  safely 
read  with  all  the  natural  pauses,  and  we  shall  do  no 
harm  to  our  conception  of  the  verse.  More  than  this, 
we  shall  find  that  in  these  unprescribed  pauses  there 
is  great  possibility  of  surprises  and  pleasurable 
effects. 

Here  are  two  bits  of  verse  as  their  words  are 
grouped  for  readers  by  M.  Paul  Passy: 

(It  must  be  said  that  here  we  find  ourselves  in  a 
field  of  great  latitude.  Whereas  the  pauses  indicated 
are  permissible  in  a  slow  reading,  most  of  them  are 
by  no  means  inevitable.  In  a  rapid  reading  very  few 
of  them  would  be  observed,  and  in  the  diction  of 
some  readers  fewer  than  in  that  of  others.  If  any 
such  extra-cesural  pauses  are  used  they  are  very, 
very  brief  in  their  duration.) 

Un  hymme  -  harmonieux  sort  des  feuilles  —  du  tremble. 
Les  voyageurs  -  craintifs,  qui  vont  la  nuit  -  ensemble, 

.63- 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Haussent  la  voix  -  dans  rombre,  ou  Ton  doit  —  se  hater, 
Laissez  tout  ce  qui  tremble 
Chanter. 

Les  marins  fatigues  sommeillent  -  sur  le  gouffre, 
La  mer  bleue  -  ou  Vesuve  epand  ses  flots  —  de  souffre, 
Se  tait  —  des  qu'il  s'eteint,  et  cesse  de  gemir, 
Laissez  tout  ce  qui  souffre 
Dormir 


In  the  following  extract  the  utterance  is  not  quite  so 
formal  in  its  divisions,  the  grouping  of  words  being 
less  obvious.  Greater  rapidity  and  naturalness  are 
aimed  at. 

Midi,  -  roi  des  etes,  -  epandu  sur  la  plaine, 
Tombe  —  en  nappes  d'argent  des  hauteurs  du  ciel  bleu. 
Tout  se  tait.  -  L'air  flamboie  et  brule  sans  haleine. 
La  terre  est  assoupie  en  sa  robe  de  feu. 

L'etendueest  immense,  et  les  champs  -  n'ont  point  d'ombre, 
Et  la  source  est  tarie,  oii  buvaient  les  troupeaux; 
La  lointaine  foret,  dont  la  lisiere  est  sombre, 
Dort  —  la-bas  —  immobile,  en  un  pesant  repos. 

Seuls  -  les  grands  bles  muris,  tels  qu'une  mer  doree, 
Se  deroulent  au  loin,  dedaigneux  du  sommeil ; 
Pacifiques  enfants  de  la  terre  sacree, 
lis  epuisent  —  sans  peur,  la  coupe  du  soleil 


64 


VI. 
STRESS  AND  VARIETY 

Thus  far,  attention  has  been  purposely  di- 
verted from  the  office  of  the  stress  accent  in  French 
verse.  The  natural  stresses  of  speech  being  all-im- 
portant in  our  own  prosody,  we  should  have  gotten 
a  false  conception  of  French  versification  if  we  had 
started  by  investigating  their  function  there.  Hav- 
ing accepted  another  basis  of  rhythm  in  French,  let 
us  see  if  stress  accents  have  any  influence  upon  it. 
In  the  diagram  on  page  ^^  the  only  stress  marked 
is  on  the  rhyming  syllable.  Its  invariable  incidence 
in  that  position  certainly  gives,  however  slight  its 
character,  an  emphasis  that  is  heard  recurring  regu- 
larly through  the  whole  series  of  lines.  But  when 
reading  with  our  attention  first  on  the  rhymes,  then 
on  the  cesuras,  and  at  last  on  the  other  pauses  be- 
tween grouped  syllables,  have  we  been  able  to  read 
entirely  without  stressing  elsewhere  than  at  the  line- 
end  *?  That  would  hardly  be  possible,  and  certainly 
would  be  most  unnatural.  Of  course  English  readers 
might  stress  more  strongly  than  French;  but  a 
Frenchman  would  have  a  tendency  to  emphasize  the 

.65. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

last  syllable  before  a  pause  that  separates  breath  or 
sense  groups,  just  as  he  emphasizes  the  end  syllable 
of  the  whole  line  before  the  great  pause.  He  will 
do  this  particularly  at  the  end  of  the  most  important 
group  in  the  line  and  before  the  most  important 
interior  pause,  that  is,  the  cesura.  And  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  where  there  is  a  cesura  in  a  line  we  find 
the  syllable  immediately  preceding  it  bearing  a 
stress  accent.  This  is  brought  about  by  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  words  so  that  a  prominent  and  signifi- 
cant word  falls  at  the  point  where  this  second  stress 
accent  of  the  line  is  to  be  heard.  A  reasonably  ex- 
pressive reading  of  these  verses  will  demand  a  stress 
before  each  cesura,  as  well  as  on  each  rhyme.  Stressed 
syllables  are  in  italics. 

Elle  etait  bien  jolie,  |  au  matin,  sans  a.tours, 
De  son  jardin  naissani  \  visitant  les  vntrveilles, 
Dans  leur  nid  d'ambroijze  |  epiant  ses  zbeilles, 
Et  du  parterre  en  fleurs  |  suivant  les  longs  ditours. 

Elle  etait  bien  jolie,  |  au  bal  de  la  soiree, 
Quand  I'eclat  des  ^umbeaux  \  illuminait  son  front, 
Et  que  de  bleus  sapkirs  \  ou  de  roses  paree, 
De  la  danse  fo/atre  |  elle  menait  le  rond. 

Elle  etait  bien  jolie,  |  a  I'abri  de  son  voile 
Qu'elle  livrait,  flottant,  \  au  souffle  de  la  nuii, 
Quand  pour  la  voir  de  loin,  \  nous  etions  la  sans  bruit, 
Heureux  de  la  connaitre  \  au  reflet  d'une  itoile. 

.66. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Elle  etait  bien  jolie;  |  et  de  pensers  touchants, 
D'un  espoir  vague  et  doux  |  chaque  jour  tmhcUie, 
L'amour  lui  manquait  seul  |  pour  etre  plus  jolie/  .  .  . 
Paix  I  .  .  .  voila  son  convoi  |  qui  passe  dans  les  champs/  .  .  . 

So,  where  there  is  a  cesura,  that  is,  in  most  lines 
longer  than  eight  syllables,  there  is  always  a  second 
stress;  and  its  place  is,  in  one  sense,  fixed.  The 
French  writers  on  prosody  have  little  to  say  on  the 
subject  of  stress;  but  that  is  no  reason  for  believing 
that  it  does  not  play  some  part  in  their  estimate  of 
the  quality  of  any  given  verse.  To  us,  foreigners, 
reading  the  French,  it  is  clear  how  much  the  mo- 
notony of  the  rhythm  scheme  is  relieved  by  this 
extra  emphasis.  When  the  cesura  is  at  its  regular 
post  in  a  series  of  lines  the  measured  fall  of  this 
stress  seems  to  us  to  add  its  effect  to  that  of  the 
cesura,  which  has  been  already  noticed  as  giving  a 
steady  march  to  the  verse.  By  reading  the  following 
with  careful  attention  to  the  rhythm  scheme,  and 
with  slight  but  distinct  emphasis  on  the  rhyme  and 
just  before  the  cesura,  the  movement  will  be  felt. 

Sais-tu  pourquoi  mes  vers  \  sont  lus  dans  les  provinces, 
Sont  recherches  du  peuple  |  et  regus  chez  les  princes? 
Ce  n'est  pas  que  leurs  sons,  \  agreables,  nombreux, 
Solent  toujours  a  Voreille  \  egalement  htureux, 
Qu'en  plus  d'un  lieu  \  le  sens  n'y  gene  la  mtsure, 
Et  qu'un  mot  quelque/ozj  |  n'y  brave  la  ctsure: 
Mais  c'est  qu'en  eux  le  vrai,  \  du  mensonge  vsixnqueur, 

.67. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Partout  se  montre  aux  yeux,  \  et  va  saisir  le  coeur; 
Que  le  bien  et  le  mal  \  y  sont  prises  au  juste; 
Que  jamais  un  ia.guin  |  n'y  tint  un  rang  zuguste; 
Et  que  mon  cceur,  \  toujours  conduisant  mon  tsprit, 
Ne  dit  rien  aux  \tcteurs  \  qu'a  soi-meme  il  n'ait  dit. 
Ma  pensee  au  grand  jour  |  partout  s'offre  et  s'expose; 
Et  mon  vers,  bien  ou  mal,  \  dit  toujours  quelque  chose. 

In  the  lines  below,  taken  from  the  Romantic  drama, 
the  cesura  causes  the  interior  stress  to  appear  now 
here,  now  there;  and  to  our  ears,  at  least,  this  em- 
phasis becomes  an  element  of  variety  of  great  value. 

Ma  fille!  —  Oh!  je  m'y  perdsf  \  c'est  un  prodige  horrible! 
C'est  une  vision/  |  Oh!  non,  c'est  impositble, 
Elle  est  pzrtie,  \  elle  est  en  route  pour  F.vreux. 
Oh !  mon  Dieuf  |  n'est-ce  pas  que  c'est  un  reve  zffreux. 
Que  vous  avez  garde  ma  fille,  |  sous  votre  aile, 
Et  que  ce  n'est  pas  elle,  6  mon  Dieu^  \  Si,  c'est  elle! 
C'est  bien  ellel  \  Ma  fille !  enfant,  reponds  -  moi,  dis^ 
lis  t'ont  assassin*?^.  |  Oh!  reponds!  Oh!  h^txiditsf 


From  the  last  extract  given,  if  from  no  other,  it 
will  be  evident  to  any  reader  that  there  may  be  more 
than  two  stress  accents  in  a  line  of  French  verse. 
Minor  groups  will  bear  them  on  their  last  syllables, 
and  there  will  be  words  of  importance  that  must  be 
emphasized.  But  except  for  what  we  call  the  rhyme 
stress  and  the  cesura  stress,  no  rule  of  position  is 
discernible.  The  other  stresses  may  fall  anywhere, 

.68. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

and  their  number,  though  it  bears  some  relation  to 
the  length  of  the  line,  is  not  determined.  The  Alex- 
andrine, twelve-syllable  line,  ordinarily  has  four 
stresses,  but  often  has  only  three,  and  not  infre- 
quently five. 

As  the  cesura  with  its  precedent  stress  was  gen- 
erally regular  in  its  arrival  in  Classic  verses,  so 
also  these  free  stress  accents  followed  something  like 
a  definite  scheme.  Even  with  the  slight  differences 
due  to  varying  incidence  of  emphasis,  in  examples 
to  be  given,  the  reader  will  discover  what  seem,  to 
the  English  ear  certainly,  very  different  movements 
in  lines  that  are  metrically  of  the  same  kind.  First 
compare  two  specimens,  emphasizing  slightly  the 
syllables  in  italics. 

Silence  done,  Moise/  |  et  toi,  parle  en  sa  place, 
'Eternelle,  immnable,   |   imm^w^e  Verite; 
Parle,  que  je  ne  meure  \  cnfonce  dans  la  glace 
De  ma  sterili^if. 

C'est  mounV  en  effet,  |  qu'a  ta  faveur  celeste 
Ne  rendre  point  pour  fruit  \  des  desirs  plus  zrdents  ; 
Et  I'sivis  du  dehors  \  n'a  rien  que  de  {uneste 
S'il  liechaufie  au  dedans. 

Cet  z.vis  ecoute  |  seulement  par  caprzce, 
Connu  sans  etre  a.ime,  |  cru  sans  etre  obserr/e, 
C'est  ce  qui  vraiment  tue,  |  et  sur  quoi  ta  justice 
Condamne  un  reproui7^. 

.69. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Parle  done,  6  mon  Dieu!  \  ton  stxx'iteur  fidele 
Pour  ecouter  ta  voix  \  riunit  tous  ses  sens, 
Et  trouve  les  douceurs  de  la  vie  hernelle 
En  ses  divins  diccents. 


Qu'il  soit  dans  ton  vepos,  \  qu'il  soil  dans  tes  orages, 
Beau  /flc,  et  dans  I'as/^eci  de  tes  x'lants  coteaux, 
Et  dans  ces  noirs  sa.pins,  |  et  dans  ces  rocs  szuvages 
Qui  pendent  sur  tes  eaux! 

Qu'il  JCi7  dans  le  itphyr  \  qui  {remit  et  qui  /»fljjg, 
Dans  les  Ztmz'/j  de  tes  bords  \  par  tes  Z'orij  repe^e^, 
Dans  r^J^re  au  front  d'urgent  \  qui  hlanckit  ta  surface 
De  ses  molles  clar/e'j/ 

Que  le  i^e/z^  qui  gemit,  \  le  roS(?aM  qui  soupire. 
Que  les  psirfums  \tgers  \  de  ton  ^ir  embaume, 
Que  tout  ce  qu'on  entend,  \  Ton  jyc'zi  ou  Ton  respire, 
Tout  dise:  "lis  ont  2^mel" 

That  the  placing  of  the  stresses  has  its  effect  on 
the  French  ear  also,  is  evident  from  at  least  one 
fact.  When  the  Romantic  poets  thought  desirable  to 
displace  the  cesura  of  the  Alexandrine,  and  in  con- 
sequence failed  to  break  the  line  exactly  in  the 
middle,  they  continued  to  make  the  sixth  syllable 
an  accented  one,  just  as  it  had  been  in  Classic  verse 
when  the  cesura  followed  it.  The  position  of  the 
interior  obligatory  stress  must,  therefore,  have  a 
dominating  effect  upon  the  sound  of  the  twelve- 
syllable  line. 

.70. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

To  us  of  English  speech  the  arrangement  of 
stresses  is  of  course  all-important,  and  we  are  highly- 
sensitive  to  the  incessant  changes  of  movement  which 
the  French  produce  by  the  variations  they  play  on 
the  cesural  stress  and  the  free  stresses  of  their 
longer  lines.  In  reading  we  must  never  lose  sight  of 
the  true  basis  of  the  versification,  but  must  learn  to 
hear  the  movement  given  by  the  stress  accents  as 
sometimes  emphasizing  the  basic  scheme,  and  as 
sometimes  giving  it  variety  by  affording  another 
scheme,  founded  on  stresses,  existing  within  it  and 
not  hostile  to  it.  The  row  of  flowerpots  is  still  on  the 
garden  wall,  divided  by  well-defined  spaces  into  the 
same  sections  of  ten  or  twelve.  The  highly  colored, 
rhyming,  line-end  pots  are  taller  than  the  others, 
to  represent  stress.  Within  each  section  is  a  small 
opening  called  the  cesura.  Besides  this,  before  the 
cesura,  and  here  and  there  through  the  section,  is  a 
pot  taller  than  its  neighbors.  These  taller,  i.e.^ 
stressed,  flowerpots  combine  with  the  shorter  ones  to 
form  little  groups  of  irregular  heights,  that  offer 
interest  and  relief  to  the  eye;  but  they  do  not  inter- 
fere with  its  perception  of  the  formal  division  of  the 
whole  row  into  sections. 

Finally,  in  spite  of  its  stiff  outline  every  piece  of 
French  verse  seems  to  our  hearing  to  be  constantly 
changing  its  movement.  It  is  dignified,  it  is  smooth, 
it  is  ponderous,  it  is  rapid,  it  is  languid,  it  is  sweet, 

.71. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

it  is  abrupt — according  to  the  disposition  of  its 
cesuras  and  its  stress  accents. 

In  a  general  way,  such  contrasts  and  the  endless 
variety  of  effect  can  be  explained  by  reference  to 
the  ancient  prosodic  unit,  the  "foot,"  which  has 
lived  in  name  if  not  in  fact  till  the  present  time. 
The  foot  does  not  exist  in  French,  or  in  English 
either,  we  think,  as  a  true  component  of  the  verse; 
but  it  is  a  convenient  conception  for  purposes  of 
analysis.  As  everyone  who  has  had  even  a  smatter- 
ing of  Latin  poetry  in  school  knows,  it  was  cus- 
tomary to  divide  up  the  Roman  verse  into  blocks 
which  were  certain  combinations  of  long  and  short 
syllables.  The  names  of  these  blocks,  or  feet,  are 
applied  by  English  prosodists  to  something  different 
from  what  they  once  meant.  The  Latin  iambus,  for 
instance,  was  a  short  syllable  followed  by  a  long 
one.  In  English,  with  its  accentual  verse  basis,  the 
iambus  is  an  unstressed  syllable  followed  by  a 
stress.  A  quick  way  of  comparing  the  two  kinds  of 
feet  would  be  this: 


Latin  or  Greek 

English 

Iambus 

^  — 

Begin 

Trochee 

—  w- 

Injure 

Dactyl 

—  ^  ^ 

Temptingly 

Anapest 

>w     -w     

Referee 

Amphibrach 

^  —  ^ 

Vac(3tion 

Spondee 



Fence  rail 

72 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Whenever  attention  is  paid  to  stresses  such  com- 
binations can  be  discovered,  and  the  prevalence  of 
any  given  foot  carries  with  it  a  movement  that  is 
unmistakably  characteristic.  Looking  solely  at  the 
accentual  arrangement  in  a  French  verse  we  can 
often  find  its  movement  marked  by  the  predomi- 
nance of  some  kind  of  foot.  The  slight  contrast  in 
the  stresses,  of  which  we  have  spoken,  makes  this 
division  hard  to  insist  upon,  but  most  French  verse 
is  decidedly  anapestic  in  general  effect. 

Among  the  anapests,  if  it  were  worth  while  to 
search  for  them,  many  iambuses  and  spondees  could 
be  discovered,  or  rather  concocted,  in  French  Classic 
and  Romantic  verse.  It  would  be  more  difficult,  how- 
ever, to  show  the  opposite  accentual  tendency,  in 
dactyls  and  trochees.  Even  if  we  were  to  succeed  in 
such  efforts,  the  process  would  be  no  more  than  a 
piece  of  pedantry,  having  no  value  as  evidence  of 
the  real  construction  of  the  verse. 

The  lines  which  head  the  second  part  of  Hugo's 
Expiation  can  very  properly  be  taken  as  anapes- 
tic, if  we  pronounce  final  e  without  accent  mark 
as  a  whole  syllable,  when  it  is  not  elided  before 
another  vowel.  (The  single  vertical  lines  divide  the 
verses  into  feet.  The  double  vertical  lines  indicate 
cesuras. ) 


73 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

'Wa.terloof  |  Water/oo/  |  Water/cc/  |  morne  plaine. 
Comme  une  c»n|de  qui  bout  ||  dans  une  wr|ne  trop  pleine, 
Dans  ton  ctr|que  de  bois,  ||  de  coteaux,  \  de  vdAlons, 

The  next  three  lines  of  this  poem,  however,  have 
not  all  the  same  movement: 

La  pd\\t  mort  ||  mtlatt  \  les  som\hrts  ba\tzi\lons. 
D'un  cote  |  c'est  VEurope,  ||  et  de  rflw|tre  la  France. 
Choc  s^nglant/   ||   des  heros  Dieu   trompait  respera72c^. 

The  first  of  the  second  three  it  is  easy  to  mark  off 
into  iambuses;  the  next  is  plainly  anapestic;  but 
the  last  does  not  submit  really  to  any  division  into 
feet.  All  we  have  ventured  to  do  with  it  is  to  in- 
dicate a  cesura  and  such  syllables  as  might,  in  a 
reasonable  interpretation,  get  a  stress  accent. 

For  three  lines  there  was  a  distinctly  recognizable 
movement,  in  the  fourth  a  change,  in  the  fifth  a  re- 
turn to  the  pace  of  the  first  three;  and  in  the  sixth 
there  is  a  perfectly  correct  French  Alexandrine 
which  in  stressing  presents  no  similarity  to  its  fore- 
runners. 

Such  is  the  duty  and  the  privilege  of  stress  accent 
everywhere  in  French  verse, — to  change  its  com- 
binations, and  thus  to  give  variety  of  movement 
within  the  limits  of  the  outer  rhythmic  scheme.  So, 
in  spite  of  there  being  in  French  no  stress  basis  for 
verse,  there  is,  in  every  line,  stress  rhythm.  From 
our  description  of  rhythms  as  series,  it  follows  that 

.74. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

very  few  phenomena  (in  this  case  stressed  syllables) 
are  necessary  to  convey  the  conception  of  a  rhythm. 
One  line  of  verse  will  present  enough  stresses  and 
intervening  syllables  to  show  a  design,  and  the  next 
line  may  confirm  it,  or  (like  the  music  which  offers 
successions  of  rhythmic  phrases  and  avoids  the  re- 
currences of  a  tune)  the  following  lines  may  intro- 
duce many  different  stress  rhythms  without  pur- 
suing any  of  them  farther.  The  French  verse, 
therefore,  can  be  full  of  variety  while  its  framework 
is  monotonous  in  its  exactness  and  conformity  to 
pattern.  In  the  constant  presentation  of  new  stress 
rhythms,  and  the  abandonment  of  them  for  newer 
ones,  this  versification  is  like  the  Free  Verse  of  the 
"Imagists,"  so  popular  in  English.  In  its  rigidity  of 
form  due  to  syllable  count  and  line  length  it  is,  of 
course,  totally  different  from  any  Free  Verse.  The 
strictly  measured  lines  can  hardly  recommend  it  to 
admirers  of  "Imagist"  poetry;  but  the  facility  with 
which  it  can  exchange  one  stress  rhythm  for  another 
should  be  appreciated  by  lovers  of  Masefield,  Frost, 
and  Masters. 


75 


VII. 
SYLLABLE  COUNTING 

In  discussing  the  existence  of  stress  accent 
in  French  verse  and  its  influence  upon  the  verse 
movement,  a  digression  has  been  made  from  the 
natural  line  of  treatment  of  our  topic,  but  a  digres- 
sion which  was  necessary  in  writing  for  English- 
speaking  readers,  to  whom  the  question  of  stress  is 
most  important. 

Let  us  now  return  to  the  basis  of  French  verse 
rhythm,  the  number  of  syllables  between  line-end 
pauses,  and  see  how  syllables  are  counted  by  Classic 
and  Romantic  versifiers  alike.  To  most  persons, 
even  to  the  French  themselves  at  the  present  time, 
the  system  of  syllable  count  seems  arbitrary  and 
mysterious.  It  will  not  appear  so  if  one  remembers 
that  it  is  merely  the  system  which  was  in  vogue 
during  the  life  of  Malherbe,  and  that  its  adoption 
then  was  due  to  its  nearly  perfect  agreement  with 
normal  prose  utterance. 

Everybody  who  has  given  the  matter  a  passing 
thought  realizes  that  our  common  alphabet  does  not 
afford  symbols  enough  to  represent  by  a  separate 

.76. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


letter  every  sound  in  even  a  single  language.  In 
French  this  inadequacy  is  very  troublesome,  and  has 
been  compensated  for  by  certain  subterfuges.  For 
instance,  the  sign  e  stands  for  different  vowels,  viz.^ 
e^  e  (or  ^),  e  nasal  (as  in  en^  em)^  e  followed  by 
some  consonant  other  than  tn  or  n  (as  in  expres^ 
essaim)  and  finally  for  the  vowel  which  is  called 
"mute"  e  because  it  has  very  little  sound  or  in  many 
cases  no  sound  at  all.  All  students  of  French  know, 
however,  that  this  vowel  in  such  combinations  as 
le,  me,  sombre,  pauvre,  must  be  pronounced  in  order 
to  give  support  to  a  preceding  consonant  or  group  of 
consonants,  and  that  its  value  then  is  about  that  of 
eu.  In  other  situations  it  is  really  mute,  as  in  fasse, 
cette,  bonne,  placement,  vie,  roses.  Between  the  dis- 
tinctness of  the  first  sort  of  "mute"  e  and  the  abso- 
lute silence  of  the  second  we  are  able  to  recognize 
several  degrees  of  clearness  in  this  vowel  according 
to  the  place  it  occupies,  the  rapidity  of  the  speaker, 
and  the  particular  style  in  which  it  is  employed. 
In  quelquefois,  quoique,  parce  que,  presque  mort, 
and  similar  words  and  combinations,  we  still  speak 
of  the  sound  as  "mute"  e,  but  we  recognize  much 
variability  in  the  importance  and  length  of  the 
vowel. 

The  history  of  e  in  the  function  of  "mute"  e  has 
been  one  of  degeneration  ever  since  the  sixteenth 
century  closed,  and  in  some  cases  this  vowel's  loss  of 

•77- 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

distinctness  had  begun  much  earlier.  To-day  French 
verse,  to  speak  generally,  counts  every  "mute"  e  as 
a  syllable  because  Malherbe  found  it  merely  a 
natural  rule  to  count  the  letter  so.  There  are  but 
four  exceptions  to  deal  with.  One  is  due  to  elision; 
one  to  the  fact  that  the  verb-ending  -aient  and  the 
forms  aient  and  soient  (from  avoir  and  etre)  were 
already,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  pronounced  as 
units  without,  just  as  now,  any  separate  sound  of  e; 
3.  third  exception  is  the  e  following  a  vowel  or 
diphthong,  in  such  words  as  criera,  tueront,  flam- 
boiement,  where  it  had  in  Malherbe's  day  lost  its 
pronunciation.  The  fourth  exception  is  of  a  different 
kind.  In  case  a  verse  ends  in  "mute"  e  it  is  not 
reckoned  as  a  syllable  either  where  it  is  actually 
sounded,  as  in  arbre,  terrible,  or  where  it  is  silent, 
as  in  mode  and  supposes. 
Such  a  line  as, 

Quelle  honte  pour  moi,  quel  triomphe  p>our  lui ! 
is,  therefore,  to  be  conceived  as  counted  or  scanned, 

I     2        3      4        s  6  •;  89  10      II  12 

Quelle  honte  pour  moi,   quel   triomphe  pour  lui ! 

and  the  evidence  of  writers  on  the  subject  from 
Palsgrave,  in  1530,  to  Hindret,  in  1687,  ^s  to  the 
pronunciation  of  the  words  is  conclusive.  It  must 
have  been  about  what  would  be  indicated  in  nine- 
teenth-century French  by  the  following  spelling; 

.78. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Quelleu  honteu  pour  mwe,  quel  triompheu  pour  lui^ 

The  lines  of  Du  Bellay  (1524-1560),  which  are 
written, 

Sus,  ma  petite  colombelle, 

Ma  petite  belle  rebelle, 

Qu'on  me  paye  ce  qu'on  me  doit ; 

Qu'autant  de  baisers  on  me  donne 

Que  le  poete  de  Veronne 

A  sa  Lesbie  en  demandoit. 

are  of  eight  syllables  each,  and  no  doubt  produced 
an  effect  very  like  this: 

Sus,  ma  petiteu  colombelleu, 

Ma  petiteu  belleu  rebelleu, 

Qu'on  me  payeu  ceu  qu'on  meu  dwe ; 

Qu'autant  deu  baisers  on  meu  donneu 

Queu  leu  poeteu  deu  Veronneu 

A  sa  Lesbie  en  demande. 

At  the  present  time,  of  course,  the  pronunciation  of 
French  words  neither  in  prose  nor  verse  gives  so 
much  value  to  the  "mute"  e\  but  in  reading  verse 
we  must  not  forget  that,  pronounced  or  unpro- 
nounced,  this  vowel  is  never  treated  as  a  nonentity 
by  the  versifier,  with  reservation,  however,  of  the 

^In  saying  that  the  pronunciation  of  the  syllabic  "mute"  e  was 
once  about  what  we  can  represent  by  eu,  the  writer  must  not  be 
taken  too  literally.  The  eu  is  no  doubt  too  full  a  sound  to 
ascribe  to  the  syllable  in  many  cases ;  but  we  have  no  closer 
approximation  to  offer. 

.79. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

four  exceptions  just  mentioned.  The  commonest  of 
these  exceptions  is  elision. 

In  one  situation  "mute"  e  in  verse  is  elided,  that 
is,  completely  suppressed  and  ignored.  This  is  when 
it  appears  at  the  end  of  a  word,  the  following  word 
beginning  with  a  vowel,  or  with  the  initial  h  that  so 
generally  in  French  has  no  consonant  effect  what- 
ever. In  the  counting  of  syllables  in  the  following, 
the  final  e?>  of  monte^  plie^  comme^  cigogne^  vole^ 
and  eglise  disappear  completely  from  both  the  cal- 
culation and  the  pronunciation: 

Mont(e),  ecureuil,  mont(e)  au  grand  chene, 

Sur  la  branche  des  cieux  prochaine, 

Qui  pli(e)  et  tremble  comm(e)  un  jonc. 

Cigogn(e),  aux  vieilles  tours  fidele, 

Oh!  vol(e)  et  mont(e)  a  tire-d'aile, 

De  reglis(e)  a  la  citadelle, 

Du  haut  clocher  au  grand  donjon. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  point  out  that  this  rule 
of  elision  in  verse  is,  properly  speaking,  not  a  proso- 
dist's  rule  at  all.  Elision  is  characteristic  of  French 
prose  as  well  as  verse,  and  is  practiced  in  the  com- 
mon speech.  "Mute"  e  is  the  only  vowel  sound 
(barring  the  i  of  si  before  il  or  ils^  which  is  so 
treated ;  but  wherever  two  words  in  close  connection 
in  sense  bring  it  next  to  an  initial  vowel  elision  is 
natural.  We  say  race  ins  ens  ee  exactly  as  if  it  were 

.80. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

racinsensee;  and  even  when  a  final  "mute"  e  is  ordi- 
narily sounded  to  support  two  preceding  consonants, 
as  in  ample^  arbre^  and  many  other  words,  whose 
last  letter  is  plainly  heard,  a  following  initial  vowel 
will  cause  it  to  disappear.  It  is  usual  and  correct  to 
say  " amplenlargeur^''  for  ample  en  largeur,  and 
"arbrenorme^'  for  arbre  enorme.  In  such  cases  the 
initial  vowel  of  the  second  word  supports  the  group 
of  consonants  before  it  and  "mute"  e  then  has  no 
office  to  perform.  The  only  artificiality  in  verse 
elision  is  in  its  use  regardless  of  a  natural  pause  be- 
tween the  words  in  question.  In  reading  prose,  and 
in  everyday  speech,  we  would  never  elide  if  the 
sense  required  a  separation  of  the  words;  whereas  in 
verse  no  pause,  not  even  a  cesura,  is  allowed  to 
prevent  the  rejection  of  the  "mute"  e  final  from  the 
syllable  scheme.  It  is  natural  to  say,  without  eliding 
through  the  comma,  Vetoffe  est  ample,  aussi  bien  en 
largeur  qu'en  longueur^  and  il  a  des  bras  comrne  les 
branches  d'un  arbre,  enorme s  et  rugueux.  Notice, 
however,  this  verse,  in  which  a  pause,  rhetorically 
inevitable,  and  making  a  cesura,  has  no  prohibitory 
power  over  the  elision  of  the  final  e  of  the  first  word : 

Cigogn(e),  aux  vieilles  tours  fidele. 

It  is  true  that  in  ordinary  pronunciation  the  final 
vowel  of  cigogne  is  never  very  clearly  heard,  sup- 
porting vowel  though  it  is.  But  here  is  a  more  ob- 

.81. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

vious  case  of  verse  elision  that  is  contrary  to  prose 
custom : 

DIeu,  ton  maitr(e),  a  d'un  sign(e)  austere 
Trace  ton  chemin  sur  la  terre, 

The  final  e  of  maitre  is  not  suppressed  by  what 
might  be  called  natural  elision,  though  in  the  same 
line  the  e  of  signe^  on  account  of  the  closeness  of  the 
connection  in  sense,  would  be  ignored  by  the  most 
casual  speaker  who  could  be  imagined  to  employ  the 
combination  signe  austere^  though  most  French  peo- 
ple say  signe^  like  cigogne,  with  a  faint  trace  of  a 
terminating  eu. 

So,  while  we  are  maintaining  that  in  the  syllabic 
count  elision  in  general  is  neither  artificial  nor  diffi- 
cult for  the  reader,  we  have  to  admit  its  arbitrary 
use  through  important  pauses,  and  must  warn 
against  overconfidence  in  the  virtue  of  natural 
utterance  in  opposition  to  this  special  rule  of  versi- 
fication. The  successful  management  of  elision  by  a 
reader  requires,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  nothing 
more  than  reproduction  of  normal  prose  utterance; 
in  the  tenth,  though,  where  "mute"  e  is  elided  in 
spite  of  a  pause  following  it,  some  special  care  must 
be  taken  in  order  to  prolong  the  sound  preceding 
the  e  and  to  join  it,  without  too  obvious  a  strain,  to 
the  next  word.  This  caution  of  course  applies  only 

.82. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

to  instances  in  which  the  "mute"  e  in  question 
happens  to  be  a  supporting  vowel,  as  it  is  in  the 
line : 

Dieu,  ton  maitr(e),  a  d'un  sign(e)  austere.  .  .  . 

When  the  final  e  belongs  to  a  word  in  which  common 
speech  no  longer  sounds  it,  no  attention  need  be 
given  to  the  effect  of  the  pause.  Monte,  ecureuil,  etc., 
shows  such  a  word.  Monte  is  here  but  one  syllable 
because  e  initial  immediately  follows  it,  but  as  the 
word  is  pronounced  monf  before  any  pause  we  have 
no  difficulty  to  contend  with. 

Homme,  une  femme  fut  ta  mere. 

offers  another  example  in  homme.  There  is  no  em- 
barrassment in  saying  homm'  and  pausing  com- 
pletely before  une  femme. 

The  last  of  the  four  exceptions  to  the  rule  that 
every  "mute"  ^  is  a  syllable,  i.e.,  the  neglect  of  this 
letter  when  it  is  the  last  vowel  of  a  verse,  is  to  be 
explained  in  a  very  different  way.  When  the  laws 
of  French  versification  were,  so  to  speak,  enacted, 
the  final  "mute"  e  could  not  have  been  ignored  be- 
cause it  had  no  sound;  for  we  know  positively,  as 
said  above,  that  it  had  a  decided  sound,  and  even 
now  many  a  verse  ends  with  an  e  that  cannot  be 
silenced.  Such  lines  exhibit  plainly  a  superfluous 
syllable. 

.83. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

La  Thrace,  errant  sur  les  montagnes, 
Remplit  les  bois  et  les  campagnes. 

Seigneur,  dans  ton  temple  adorable 

Ce  sanctuaire  impenetrable 

O  Christ !  il  est  trop  vrai,  ton  eclipse  est  bien  sombre, 
La  terre  sur  ton  astre  a  projete  son  ombre. 

The  fact  is  that  in  the  pronunciation  of  the  six- 
teenth and  seventeenth  centuries  every  line  that 
finished  in  a  feminine  rhyme,  i.e.^  ended  with  a 
syllable  containing  "mute"  ^,  in  -e,  -es,  or  -ent^  had 
one  syllable  more  than  its  theoretical  quota.  This 
condition  was  admitted,  and  can  yet  be  admitted 
in  such  verses  as  have  just  been  cited,  because  the 
sound,  which  approximates  that  of  eu,  falls  after 
the  great  stress  accent  of  the  line  and,  therefore, 
seems  to  be  within  the  line-end  pause.  Being  always 
very  short  and  usually  indistinct,  the  vowel  did  not, 
and  does  not  fill  the  pause.  The  rhythm,  therefore, 
is  not  destroyed  by  an  obliteration  of  the  interval 
between  verses.  In  such  cases  the  pause  was  not 
obliterated,  but  merely  slightly  shortened. 

In  practice  we  are  not  forced  to  occupy  our  minds 
with  the  final  vowel  of  feminine  rhymes.  Whether 
we  are  obliged  to  pronounce  it,  as  in  sombre,  or  to 
neglect  it  as  in  chene  or  ?nere,  the  rhythm  of  the 

.84. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

verse  will  not  be  influenced  except  as  the  versifier 
intended  that  it  should  be.  It  is  sufficient  for  the 
reader  to  recognize  the  existence  of  the  extra  sylla- 
ble and  to  know  why  it  has  never  been  considered  a 
blemish.  The  measure  of  any  verse  will  be  correct  if 
its  syllable  count  is  correct  up  to,  and  including,  the 
last  stressed  syllable.  According  to  this  system  these 
are  four-syllable  verses,  as  marked  for  counting: 

Les  Djinns  funebr(es), 
Fils  du  trepas, 
Dans  les  tenebr(es) 
Pressent  leurs  pas ; 
Leur  essaim  grond(e)  : 
Ainsi,  profond(e), 
Murmur(e)  un(e)  ond(e) 
Qu'on  ne  volt  pas. 

Every  long  line  in  the  extract  below  is  deemed  to 
contain  eight  syllables: 

Sa  grandeur  eblouit  rhistoir(e). 

Quinz(e)  ans  il  fut 
Le  dieu  que  trainait  la  victoir(e) 

Sur  son  affut; 
L'Europe  sous  sa  loi  guerrier(e) 

Se  debattit, — 
Toi,  son  singe,  marche  derrier(e) 

Petit,  petit. 

Owing  to  the  development  of  French  pronuncia- 
tion during  the  last  three  centuries  the  management 

.85. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

of  "mute"  e  in  verse  is  a  delicate  matter  for  both 
versifier  and  reader,  and  our  discussion  must  return 
to  the  vowel  somewhat  later.  For  the  present,  the 
question  as  to  when  "mute"  ^  is  a  syllable  in  verse, 
and  when  it  is  not,  has  been  answered. 

There  is,  however,  difficulty  sometimes  in  decid- 
ing when  contiguous  vowels,  other  than  "mute"  e, 
form  one  syllable,  and  when  they  are  to  be  con- 
sidered sufficiently  distinct  from  each  other  to  fall 
in  separate  syllables.  For  this  decision  the  ordinary 
pronunciation  is  the  first  and  best  guide.  We  learn 
in  every  French  grammar  that  the  language  uses  a 
certain  number  of  what  are  called  digraphs,  that  is, 
single  vowel  sounds  represented  by  two  letters  each : 
ai^  au^  ei^  eu^  cb,  ou^  ue  (as  in  the  words,  lait^  autant^ 
pleine^  feu^  ceil,  tout,  cueillir).  No  one  with  merely 
rudimentary  knowledge  of  French  would  think  of 
dividing  such  words  into  more  syllables  in  verse 
than  they  contain  in  prose.  Whatever  was  the  origin 
of  these  digraphs  and  their  evolution,  from  the 
phonetician's  point  of  view,  it  suffices  us  here  to 
know  that  they  are,  and  were  when  Malherbe  lived, 
single  and  irresoluble  vowels.  The  trigraphs,  too, 
eau,  ceu  (in  peau  and  ceuf)  are  now  simple  sounds, 
which  cannot  be  split  into  three,  or  even  two  sylla- 
bles. So  one  seeming  source  of  doubt  in  syllable 
count  is  removed  for  the  reader.  In  the  following 
lines  an  inexperienced  eye  will  find  no  trouble  in 

.86. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

recognizing  such  vowel   combinations   and  giving 
them  their  proper  syllabic  value : 

O  p^wple  des  {auhourgs,  je  vous  ai  vu  sublime; 
Aujourdi'hm  vous  avez,  serf  grise  par  le  crime, 
Plus  d'argent  dans  la  poche,  au  coeur  moins  de  fierte. 

Besides  digraphs  and  trigraphs,  the  French  lan- 
guage possesses  some  nearly  constant  diphthongs, 
that  is,  combinations  of  vowels  whose  sounds  are 
run  so  closely  together  as  to  be  deemed  in  point  of 
time  one  syllable.  The  surest  examples  of  these 
diphthongs  are  oi  and  ie  {toi,  del).  It  is  nearly 
always  safe  to  assume  in  verse  that  oi  is  one  syllable, 
and  ie  is  only  a  trifle  less  likely  to  be  a  syllabic  unit. 
Each  of  these  combinations  is  in  most  cases  the  de- 
velopment in  French  of  a  single  vowel  in  Latin,  and 
such  developments  give  two  vowel  sounds  closely 
fused  together.  For  instance,  rien  is  from  the  Latin 
rem,  bien  from  bene,  pierre  from  petra?7i,  pied  from 
pede?n,  avoir  from  habere,  voile  from  velum,  foi 
from  fidem,  vient  from  venit,  doit  from  debet, — the 
inflectional  ending  always  having  been  dropped  in 
popular  pronunciation  at  an  extremely  early  day, 
and  the  vowel  of  the  stem  having  been  later  sounded 
like  a  diphthong.  Of  course,  for  persons  not  ac- 
quainted with  the  derivation  of  modern  French 
words  such  a  hint  is  of  no  value;  but  where  one 
knows    something   of    the    origin    of    French,    this 

.87. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


method  of  determining  whether  oi  and  ie  are  syl- 
labic units  is  not  only  useful,  but  is  really  the  only 
scientific  way  of  deciding.  There  are  other  instances 
of  the  diphthongs  oi  and  ?>,  in  which  they  do  not 
come  from  single  vowel  sounds,  but  from  a  vowel 
followed  in  the  Latin  by  i,  this  i  itself  being  fol- 
lowed by  another  vowel.  This  is  a  still  less  obvious 
test,  as  it  demands  more  training  in  derivations  than 
can  be  presumed  in  the  case  of  anyone  but  a  student 
of  Romance  philology.  Sometimes  the  French  word 
containing  oi  comes  from  a  Latin  word  in  which  a  c 
has  turned  into  the  vowel  i  after  another  vowel. 
The  last  two  cases  often  give  rise  also  to  a  com- 
bination, ui^  which  is  but  one  syllable;  hence  it  is 
practicable  to  look  upon  ui  as  a  diphthong,  as  we 
naturally  do  in  fruity  puits,  puis,  fuite,  nuit,  bruit} 
It  must  be  said,  however,  that  the  French  poets 
have  not  invariably  found  it  convenient  to  observe 
the  rule,  which  is  after  all  not  a  prosodic  principle, 
but  a  natural  law  of  language;  and  they  have  occa- 
sionally divided  ie,  and  more  often  ui,  into  two 
separate  vowels.  Theoretically  such  treatment  of  a 
syllabic  unit  may  make  trouble  for  the  reader,  but 
practically  there  is  nothing  to  fear  from  the  proceed- 
ing, for  reasons  which  will  be  given  further  on. 

lit  is  fair  to  state  that  many  authorities  do  not  consider  such 
combinations  "diphthongs,"  but  a  semivowel  plus  a  vowel.  The 
distinction  is  of  no  importance  in  the  present  discussion. 

.88. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


To  turn  back  a  little,  it  has  been  admitted  that,  in 
spite  of  etymology  on  the  one  hand,  and  lists  of 
disputed  words  as  given  in  French  treatises  on  syl- 
labification on  the  other,  the  common  pronunciation 
is  the  true  guide.  It  is  well  to  remember,  at  least, 
that  the  common  ending  -ier  is  a  single  syllable  and 
that  the  -ions  and  -iez  of  verbs  are  also  monosyl- 
labic. When,  though,  -ions  and  -iez  follow  bl^  tl,  br, 
dr^  tr,  vr^  that  is,  the  union  of  what  grammarians 
call  a  mute  with  a  liquid,  it  is  not  easy  to  keep  from 
separating  the  i  from  the  o  or  the  e.  In  the  earliest 
of  modern  French  verse  no  such  division  will  be 
found;  but  after  Corneille  the  pronunciation  has 
seemed  to  need  to  attach  the  i  to  the  bl,  br,  tr^  etc., 
as  a  sort  of  supporting  vowel.  At  any  rate,  we  do 
not  find  it  easy  to  say  voudrions  in  two  syllables,  as 
we  do  venions^  but  in  prose  as  well  as  verse  make 
vou-dri-ons. 

Leaving  out  of  account  the  oi^  ie^  and  ui  proceed- 
ing from  the  Latin  sources  of  which  mention  has 
been  made,  most  contiguous  vowels  in  French  words, 
in  the  first  half  of  the  seventeenth  century,  were 
assigned  by  cultivated  pronunciation  to  separate 
syllables,  and  therefore  were  counted  in  verse  as 
distinct  syllabic  units.  This  separation  was  not  truly 
such,  because  in  the  natural  evolution  of  French 
words  from  Latin  ones  the  vowels  in  question  had 
never  been  combined  in  diphthongs.  The  separate 

.89. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

utterance  of  them  was,  like  so  many  other  things  in 
versification  commonly  deemed  arbitrary,  perfectly 
natural.  In  most  of  the  cases  of  this  kind  consonants 
in  the  body  of  Latin  words  had  gradually  weakened 
in  popular  speech  till  they  disappeared  completely, 
leaving  two  vowels  standing  together,  but,  as  may  be 
inferred,  in  different  syllables.  Fairly  obvious  ex- 
amples are:  saluer  from  salutare^  cruel  from  crude- 
lem^  louer  from  locare^  prier  from  precare,  and  suer 
from  sudare.  Besides  words  that  were  developed 
from  the  Latin  without  premeditation,  the  language 
has  many  that  are  known  as  mots  savants  or  learned 
words,  that  is,  constructed  by  persons  familiar  with 
the  Latin,  Greek,  Italian,  etc.,  and  these  reproduced 
the  syllables  of  the  originals  regardless  of  any  chance 
contiguity  of  vowels. 

Here  it  may  well  be  asked  how  the  reader  is  to 
distinguish  in  a  great  number  of  words  between  a 
diphthong  and  two  vowels  which  belong  to  separate 
syllables.  The  best  method  in  practice  is  to  trust  to 
one's  knowledge  of  the  sound  of  common  words, 
keeping  in  mind  the  digraphs  and  trigraphs  and  the 
diphthongs  oi^  ie^  and  ui^  and  assuming  that  un- 
known vowel  combinations  are  to  be  in  two  or  even 
more  syllables.  The  prescription  is  neither  precise 
nor  scientific,  but  will  seldom  lead  us  astray.  For 
English-speaking  readers  of  French  verse  the  differ- 
ence in  audible  effect  between  a  diphthong  and  two 

.90. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


independent  syllables  is  too  slight  to  alter  the  length 
of  any  except  the  shortest  lines,  therefore  an  occa- 
sional misapprehension  in  this  particular  will  not 
result  in  damage  to  the  rhythm.  The  French  them- 
selves, in  reading  their  poetry,  actually  pronounce 
many  diphthongs  in  cases  where  the  versifier  was 
obliged  to  count  more  than  one  syllable.  In  another 
section  of  this  book  their  habit  will  be  referred  to 
with  greater  detail  in  explanation  of  another  matter; 
but  at  this  point  a  little  attention  must  be  directed 
to  it. 

The  science  of  phonetics  makes  clear  that  some 
vowels  require  more  muscular  effort  in  their  enuncia- 
tion than  others.  Among  the  French  vowel  sounds 
those  represented  by  ?,  u^  and  ou  are  the  extremes 
in  their  respective  classes;  i  demanding  the  highest 
and  most  forward  position  of  the  front  part  of  the 
tongue,  with  the  greatest  sidewise  tension  of  the 
lips;  u  the  same  position  of  the  tongue,  and  the 
greatest  protrusion  of  lips;  while  ou  requires  the 
highest  position  of  the  back  of  the  tongue,  and  at 
the  same  time  greatest  protrusion  and  pursing  of  the 
lips,  with  muscular  tension  of  the  pharynx.  Natu- 
rally, such  a  statement  will  indicate  little  to  anyone 
who  is  not  a  student  of  phonetics;  but  it  can  easily 
be  understood  as  meaning  that  these  three  vowels 
must  take  unusual  energy  for  their  production.  The 
tendency  of  the  French  during  more  than  a  century, 

.91. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


at  least,  has  been,  when  giving  i  or  u  or  ou  immedi- 
ately before  another  vowel,  to  abandon  as  quickly  as 
possible  the  necessary  extreme  effort  and  proceed  to 
the  formation  of  the  following  vowel ;  for  in  all  these 
diphthongs  it  is  the  second  vowel  that  is  stressed. 
The  outcome  of  the  habit  is  noticeable  in  the  spoken 
language  to-day,  in  which  nearly  all  vowel  combina- 
tions beginning  with  i  or  u  or  ou  are  diphthongs, 
regardless  of  derivation  or  earlier  custom.  Saluer  is 
usually  pronounced  in  two  syllables,  contribuer  has 
three,  douane  has  one,  piano^  two,  viande  hardly 
more  than  one  in  spite  of  something  like  a  support- 
ing vowel  at  the  end  of  it.  Quest  is  sounded  in  al- 
most as  short  a  form  as  our  word  "west,"  and  suicide 
has  now  only  two  syllables  in  familiar  style. 

If  the  dictionary  of  Littre  be  consulted  such  diph- 
thongs as  these  will  be  found  to  be  condemned 
wherever  there  is  any  chance  of  their  occurrence. 
M.  Littre  was  struggling  to  exclude  from  his  lan- 
guage something  which  his  very  condemnation 
proves  to  have  become  common  during  his  lifetime 
(1801  to  1881)  or  even  earlier.  In  the  dictionary 
published  some  twenty  years  ago  by  Hatzfeld  and 
Darmesteter  great  numbers  of  words  are  given  as 
being  pronounced  in  verse  each  with  one  syllable 
more  than  in  prose.  Opening  the  book  at  random  we 
see:  Compassion  {kon-pa-syon;  en  vers,  -si-on]  and 
Differentiel  ^di-fe-ran-syel;  en  vers,  -si-el]  and  Eva- 

.92. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

cuer  [e-va-kue;  en  vers^  -ku-e]  and  Fouir  [fwir;  en 
vers,  fou-ir].  This  means  that  Hatzfeld  and  Darme- 
steter  admit  the  comparatively  recent  diphthongs 
beginning  with  i,  u,  and  ou,  but  call  attention  to  the 
former  value  of  each  as  two  syllabic  units,  which 
value  verse  retains.  The  reader  of  verse  can,  with  the 
explanation  just  offered,  recognize  and  understand 
the  phenomenon,  while  he  yields  to  the  older  manner 
of  the  versifier  in  treating  the  vowels  under  con- 
sideration as  separate.  And,  as  already  stated,  he 
runs  little  risk  of  spoiling  a  verse  by  making  a  mis- 
take in  this  particular.  His  danger  is  even  less  than 
it  would  be  if  the  vowel  i  of  the  diphthong  were 
really  equivalent  in  duration  to  our  y,  or  ou  the 
exact  representation  of  our  zv.  These  French  vowels, 
called  often  semivowels  or  semiconsonants  when  in 
the  diphthongs,  are  audibly  more  separate  from  a 
following  vowel  than  our  y  or  w.  latnbe  has  a  sound 
that  is  not  quite  fairly  given  by  the  first  element  of 
the  English  word  "yam,"  nor  is  ouest  quite  the 
monosyllable  "west."  The  middle  position,  between 
monosyllables  and  dissyllables,  occupied  by  the 
French  diphthongs  of  recent  and  popular  pronuncia- 
tion makes  their  variation  in  either  direction  an  ex- 
cusable liberty.  Whatever  a  dictionary  may  pre- 
scribe on  the  subject,  few  French  people  would  feel 
inconvenience  from  hearing  suicide  called  su-icide 
in  verse,  while  on  the  other  hand  they  would  hardly 

•93- 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


notice  that  the  verse  had  been  curtailed  by  its  pro- 
nunciation with  one  syllable  less  than  the  poet  had 
intended  it  to  contain.  The  difficulty  for  an  English 
tongue  is  great  when  it  is  a  question  of  saying  ia^  ie, 
io^  iu,  ua,  ue^  uo,  oua^  oue^  out,  ouo,  just  as  the 
French  say  them.  In  fact,  it  is  rare  for  us  ever  to 
reach  a  degree  of  precision  in  the  language  of  the 
modern  Gauls  at  which  we  are  able  to  notice  that 
there  is  such  a  difficulty  to  be  met.  Fortunately  for 
us,  there  is  little  damage  done  to  the  French  verse 
if  we  ignore  the  point  entirely  while  we  read. 

Here  it  is  proper  to  recommend  the  reading  and 
analysis  of  a  certain  quantity  of  French  verse,  in 
order  that  the  division  into  syllables  may  become 
familiar,  and  that  the  eye  may  detect  without  delay 
the  scansion  of  each  line.  After  the  following  ex- 
tracts have  been  noted  and  completely  understood, 
with  the  aid  of  the  marking  introduced  wherever 
doubt  as  to  the  division  of  syllables  might  be  felt, 
there  would  be  advantage  in  taking  up  some  an- 
thology of  French  poetry,  and  in  trying  to  distin- 
guish and  mark  for  oneself  the  syllable  count.  But 
it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  the  pronunciation,  like 
an  abbreviated  eu^  of  every  "mute"  e  which  forms  a 
syllabic  unit  is  by  no  means  the  custom  of  to-day 
among  readers  of  French  poetry.  It  is  time  to  speak 
of  the  difference  in  sound  which  the  nineteenth-cen- 
tury way  of  treating  "mute"  e  has  brought  to  the 

.94. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

verse,  and  to  give  some  explanation.  First,  however, 
let  the  reader  become  reasonably  perfect  in  his 
syllable  counting.  In  the  extracts  following,  vowel 
combinations  treated  by  the  versifiers  as  diphthongs 
are  italicized  in  such  instances  as  could  by  any 
possibility  be  thought  doubtful. 

PARAPHRASE  DU  PSAUME  CXLV 

N'esperons  plus,  mon  ame,  aux  promesses  du  monde : 
Sa  lumZ(?re  est  un  verre,  et  sa  faveur  une  onde 
Que  toujours  quelque  vent  empeche  de  calmer. 
Quittons  ces  vanites,  lassons-nous  de  les  suiwe ; 

C'est  Dieu  qui  nous  fait  vivre, 

C'est  T)ieu  qu'il  faut  aimer. 

En  vain,  pour  satisfaire  a  nos  laches  envies. 

Nous  passons  pres  des  rois  tout  le  temps  de  nos  vies 

A  souffrir  des  meprls  et  plcjer  les  genoux. 

Ce  qu'ils  peuvent  n'est  rien ;  ils  sont  comme  nous  sommes, 

Veritablement  hommes, 

Et  meurent  comme  nous. 

Ont-ils  rendu  I'esprit,  ce  n'est  plus  que  poussZ(?re 

Que  cette  majeste  si  pompeuse  et  si  iiert 

Dont  I'eclat  orgw^tlleux  etonne  I'univers  ; 

Et  dans  ces  grands  tombeaux  ou  leurs  ames  hautaines, 

Font  encore  les  vaines, 

Ils  sont  manges  des  vers. 

La  se  perdent  ces  noms  de  maitres  de  la  terre, 

D'arbitres  de  la  paix,  de  foudres  de  la  guerre; 

Comme  ils  n'ont  plus  de  sceptre,  ils  n'ont  plus  de  flatteurs, 

.95. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Et  tombent  avec  eux  d'une  chute  commune 
Tous  ceux  que  leur  fortune 
Faisait  leurs  serviteurs. 

Malherbe. 

CHIMENE 

Reprenons  done  aussi  ma  colere  affaiblie: 

Pour  avoir  soin  de  \ui  faut-il  que  je  m'oublie? 

On  le  vante,  on  le  loue,  et  mon  coeur  y  consent! 

Mon  honneur  est  muet,  mon  devczr  impwzssant !     (mu-et) 

Silence,  mon  amour,  laisse  agir  ma  colere: 

S'il  a  vaincu  deux  rois,  il  a  tue  mon  pere ;  C^^"^) 

Ces  tristes  vetements,  ou  je  lis  mon  malheur, 

Sont  les  premzers  effets  qu'ait  prodwzt  sa  valeur ; 

Et  quoi  qu'on  die  ailleurs  d'un  coeur  si  magnanime, 

Ici  tous  les  objets  me  parlent  de  son  crime. 

Vous  qui  rendez  la  force  a  mes  ressentiments, 
Voiles,  crepes,  habits,  lugubres  ornements, 
Pompe  que  me  prescrit  sa  ^rtvcviert  victoire, 
Contre  ma  passion  soutenez  hien  ma  gloire ;       (pas-si-on) 
Et  lorsque  mon  amour  prendra  trop  de  pouvoir, 
Parlez  a  mon  esprit  de  mon  triste  devoir, 
Attaquez  sans  rien  craindre  une  main  triomphante. 

(tri-om-phante) 

Corneille. 

SUR  LA  MORT  D'UNE  JEUNE  FILLE 

Son  age  echappait  a  I'enfance; 

Riante  comme  I'innocence,  (ri-an-te) 

Ellc  avait  les  traits  de  1' Amour. 

Quelques  mois,  quelques  jours  encore, 

.96. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Dans  ce  coear  pur  et  sans  detour 
Le  sentiment  allait  eclore. 

Mais  le  del  avait  au  trepas 
Condamne  ses  jeunes  appas; 
Au  del  elle  a  rendu  sa  vie, 
Et  doucement  s'est  endormie, 
Sans  murmurer  centre  ses  lois. 
Ainsi  le  sourire  s'efface ; 
Ainsi  meurt  sans  laisser  de  trace 
Le  chant  d'un  czseau  dans  les  hois. 

Parny. 

TRISTESSE 

J'ai  perdu  ma  force  et  ma  vie, 
Et  mes  amis  et  ma  gaite; 
J'ai  perdu  jusqu'  a  la  iiertt 
Qui  faisait  croire  a  mon  genie. 

Quand  j'ai  connu  la  Verite, 
J'ai  cru  que  c'etait  une  amie ; 
Quand  je  I'ai  comprise  et  sentie, 
J'en  etais  deja  degoute. 

Et  pourtant  elle  est  eternelle, 
Et  ceux  qui  se  sent  passes  d'elle 
Ici-bas  ont  tout  ignore. 

Tiieu  parle,  il  faut  qu'on  \ui  reponde; 
Le  seul  hien  qui  me  reste  au  monde 
Est  d'avoir  quelquefois  pleure. 

de  Musset. 

•97- 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


SAISON  DES  SEMAILLES 

LE   SOIR 

C'est  le  moment  crepusculaire. 
J'admire,  assis  sous  un  portail, 
Ce  reste  de  jour  dont  s'eclaire 
La  dernj^re  heure  du  travail. 

Dans  les  terres,  de  nuit  baignees, 
Je  contemple,  emu,  les  haillons 
D'un  vzVillard  qui  jette  a  poignees 
La  mozsson  future  aux  sillons. 

Sa  haute  silhouette  noire  (si-lhou-et-te) 

Domine  les  profonds  labours. 
On  sent  a  quel  point  il  doit  croire 
A  la  iuitt  utile  des  jours. 

II  marche  dans  la  plaine  immense, 
Va,  \ient,  lance  la  graine  au  loin, 
Rouvre  sa  main  et  recommence, 
Et  je  medite,  obscur  temoin, 

Pendant  que,  depl<?jant  ses  voiles, 
L'ombre,  ou  se  mele  une  rumeur, 
Semble  elargir  jusqu'aux  etoiles 
Le  geste  auguste  du  semeur. 


Hugo. 


A  L'HIRONDELLE 

Toi  qui  peux  monter  solitaire 
Au  del,  sans  gravir  les  sommets, 
Et  dans  les  valloRs  de  la  terre 
Descendre  sans  tomber  jamais; 

.98. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Toi  qui,  sans  te  pencher  au  fleuve 

Ou  nous  ne  pwzsons  qu'a  genoux, 

Peux  aller  boire  avant  qu'il  pleuve 

Au  nuage  trop  haut  pour  nous ;  (nu-a-ge) 

Toi  qui  pars  au  declin  des  roses 
Et  reviens  au  nid  printanzVr, 
Fidele  aux  deux  meilleures  choses, 
L'independance  et  le  ioyer ; 

Comme  toi  mon  ame  s'eleve 

Et  tout  a  coup  rase  le  sol, 

Et  suit  avec  I'aile  du  reve 

Les  beaux  meandres  de  ton  vol ;        (me-an-dres) 

S'il  lui  faut  aussi  des  voyages, 

II  lui  faut  son  nid  chaque  jour; 

Elle  a  tes  deux  besoins  sauvages : 

Libre  vie,  immuable  amour.  (im-mu-a-bl') 

Sully-Prudhomme. 

CHANSON  D'EXIL 

Triste  exile,  qu'il  te  souvzenne 
Combz^n  I'avenir  etait  beau, 
Quand  sa  main  tremblait  dans  la  tiennt 
Comme  un  oiseau, 

Et  combien  ton  ame  etait  pleine 
D'une  bonne  et  douce  chaleur, 
Quand  tu  respirais  son  haleine 
Comme  une  fleur ! 

.99. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Mais  elle  est  1cm,  la  chere  idole, 

Et  tout  s'assombrit  de  nouveau ; 

Tu  sais  qu'un  souvenir  s'envole 

Comme  un  oiseau ; 

Deja  I'aile  du  doute  plane 
Sur  ton  ame  oil  nait  la  douleur; 
Et  tu  sais  qu'un  amour  se  fane 
Comme  une  fleur. 

Coppee. 


100 


VIII. 

MANAGEMENT  AND  INFLUENCE 
OF  "MUTE"  E 

In  observing  and  pronouncing  the  "mute"  e 
to  the  full  extent  that  the  correct  syllable  count 
requires,  the  reader  has  not  done  all  that  is  necessary 
to  restore  to  French  verse  its  original,  i.e.^  its  seven- 
teenth-century, effect.  A  close  running  together  of 
the  words,  a  natural  peculiarity  of  the  language, 
must  be  accomplished.  This  has,  of  course,  been 
brought  about  to  some  extent  by  elision,  which  often 
reduces  to  a  single  word  such  a  pair  of  words  as 
temple  eternel  {templeternel)  or  nombre  infini 
{nombrinjinz) .  It  has,  moreover,  been  incalculably 
aided  by  the  prosodists'  rule  excluding  hiatus.  No 
versifier  in  French  may  permit  the  former  of  two 
successive  words  to  end  in  any  vowel  but  "mute"  e, 
if  the  second  word  begins  with  a  vowel  sound.  This 
prescription,  which  has  been  inviolable  since  Mal- 
herbe's  day,  prevents  our  discovering  in  a  French 
verse  such  expressions  as,  alle  avec  nous^  il  a  ete^ 
Dieu  a  dit,  qui  avait^  etc.  We  do  not  find  even  et  il, 
et  on,  et  elles,  etc.,  because,  the  /  of  et  never  being 

.  101  . 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

heard,  hiatus  could  not  be  avoided.  Here,  it  must  be 
acknowledged,  is  an  arbitrary  law  of  French  versifi- 
cation, enacted  in  the  interest  of  smoothness  of 
sound,  but  certainly  a  very  good  law.  The  prose 
speech  is  unpleasantly  overstocked  with  successions 
of  vowel  sounds,  as  English  is  with  s  and  z;  our 
poets  avoid  by  common  consent  too  many  hissing 
words  in  their  lines,  while  the  French  submit  to  the 
hardship  of  rejecting  many  combinations  of  great 
rhetorical  value,  because  of  the  absolute  rule  against 
hiatus.  At  the  line-end  pause,  it  is  plain,  hiatus 
troubles  no  ear,  because  there  is  a  rest  for  the  voice, 
and  the  time  is  ample  for  the  transition  from  one 
vowel  to  another.  Lamartine  writes, 

C'est  le  souffle  divin  dont  tout  homme  est  forme, 
II  ne  s'eteint  qu'avec  son  ame. 

Such  successive  verses  are  not  common,  however, 
and  neither  at  the  cesura  nor  at  any  other  pause 
within  a  line  may  there  be  an  appearance  of  hiatus. 
Appearance  is  purposely  used  in  this  connection ;  for 
if  the  pause  is  noticeable  there  can  be  no  true  hiatus 
whatever.  Overcarefulness  on  the  part  of  the  versi- 
fier is  hardly  to  be  blamed,  as  it  sometimes  might  be, 
because  elision  itself  not  infrequently  fails  to  banish 
hiatus.  If  in  the  two  lines  below,  "mute"  e  disap- 
pears with  good  effect,  it  is  because  the  elided  vowel 
leaves  a  consonant: 

.  102  . 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


De  ce  dieu  terribl(e)  et  puissant, 


Au  moindr(e)  effet  de  sa  fureur. 

A  "mute"  e  following  another  vowel  is  extinguished 
only  to  leave  a  hiatus  behind  it.  In  Leconte  de  Lisle's 
line,  for  instance,  he  Temps^  VEtendue  et  le  N ombre 
there  is  -u{e)et,  which,  though  permissible,  would 
not  be  praiseworthy  except  for  its  position  at  a 
palpable  pause.  Another  example  is.  La  rosee  en 
pleurs;  another  is,  ha  brise  qui  se  joue  autour  de 
V  or  anger. 

The  strict  rule  against  hiatus,  however  it  may 
hamper  the  versifier,  is  of  immense  assistance  to  the 
reader  of  verse,  and  certainly  does  not  tax  his  atten- 
tion. Except  in  the  case  of  making  liaison  where  it  is 
feasible,  he  has  nothing  to  do  but  let  himself  profit 
by  the  absence  of  awkward  vowel  successions  from 
word  to  word. 

There  is  enough,  though,  for  the  reader  to  do  in 
the  interest  of  smoothness  if  he  omits  no  possible 
liaison :  for  in  verse  the  prescription  is  to  sound  every 
final  consonant  which  comes  before  an  initial  vowel, 
no  matter  how  important  the  pause  that  may  fall 
between  the  consonant  and  the  vowel  in  question, 
and  regardless  of  custom  in  prose  or  familiar  speech. 
Only  the  m  and  n  which  have  disappeared  in  sound 
from  the  end  of  such  words  as  parfum  and  com- 

'  103. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

pagnon^  leaving  a  nasal  vowel  behind,  are  not  to  be 
restored  unless  they  happen  to  be  heard  in  certain 
combinations  of  words  in  the  ordinary  language. 
In  such  familiar  cases  as  are  to  be  seen  in  the  lines 
quoted  below,  liaison  with  the  final  n  is  as  obligatory 
in  verse  as  in  the  most  unpretentious  prose : 

Car  son  peuple  I'oublie  en  un  lache  sommeil. 

La  terre  sur  ton  astre  a  projete  son  ombre. 

Leaving  out  of  consideration  the  liaison  with  m  and 
«,  as  regards  which  verse  reading  is  now  precisely  like 
prose  reading,  in  verse  it  is  theoretically  necessary 
to  join  in  the  enunciation  every  final  consonant  to  its 
succeeding  initial  vowel.  In  sustained,  serious  prose 
this  rule  is  only  operative  in  part,  while  in  common 
speech  the  liaison  is  very  frequently  neglected.  Of 
the  three  kinds  of  utterance,  the  most  formal,  verse, 
is  the  simplest  for  a  foreigner  to  manage,  as  far  as 
the  liaison  is  involved.  He  simply  reverts  to  the 
habit  of  the  sixteenth  century  in  the  pronunciation 
of  all  consonants  which  stand  immediately  before 
vowels. 

Spelling  in  French,  as  in  English,  is  now  so  fan- 
tastically far  from  being  phonetic  that  one  is  ex- 
cusable for  forgetting  the  fact  that  most  letters 
which  are  used  have  some  reason  for  their  presence; 

.  104. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

but  it  is  nevertheless  true  that  their  existence  where 
they  seem  purposeless  is  almost  invariably  due  to 
some  function  once  perfomied.  Final  consonants  in 
French  words,  with  a  few  exceptions,  are  soundless 
survivals  from  a  time  when  they  were  distinctly 
heard.  That  time  was  drawing  to  a  close  in  the  six- 
teenth century  just  when  the  present  prosodic  system 
was  being  formulated.  About  1580  practically  every 
final  consonant  was  sounded  pretty  distinctly  before 
a  pause  in  reading  or  speaking.  It  was  not  heard, 
however,  if  there  was  no  pause  between  the  word  it 
terminated  and  a  succeeding  word  beginning  with  a 
consonant.  This  state  of  affairs  merely  signifies  that 
the  final  consonant  sound  was  a  part  of  the  word, 
not,  as  now,  a  superfluous  letter ;  but,  it  having  long 
been  the  habit  of  the  French  to  suppress  in  the  body 
of  a  word  the  first  of  two  contiguous  consonants, 
the  habit  naturally  was  extended  to  two  closely  con- 
nected words,  which,  in  the  French  manner  of  run- 
ning sense  groups  or  breath  groups  together,  became 
temporarily  fused  in  one.  Gradually  getting  used 
to  words  without  final  consonant  sounds,  the  talkers 
of  the  nation  conceived  most  words  to  end  thus,  in 
no  matter  what  situation.  So  chat  is  cha\  and  roux 
is  rou\  etc. ;  but  to  the  writers,  and  especially  the 
printers,  of  French  the  final  consonant  has  never 
been  lost  to  sight,  however  devoid  of  sound.  And  in 
1580  no  final  consonant  coming  before  the  initial 

.  105. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

vowel  of  the  next  word  was  affected  by  the  tendency 
to  disappear,  that  tendency  being  due  only  to  the 
difficulty  presented  to  French  speakers  by  two  con- 
sonants coming  together.  We  call  the  retention  of 
the  final  consonant  before  an  initial  vowel  liaison; 
but  it  is  nothing,  after  all,  except  the  normal  pro- 
nunciation of  the  French  of  a  former  time,  in  some 
cases  having  been  historically  continuous  down  to 
our  day,  in  others  a  restoration.  And  in  many  in- 
stances in  verse  which  are  opposed  to  the  prose 
usage  of  to-day,  it  is  a  deliberate  retention  of  the 
custom  of  former  times,  and  is  traditional,  as  well 
as  being  indispensable  to  the  prevention  of  the  dis- 
jointed effect  of  hiatus. 

To  read  the  verse  of  the  Classic  period,  then,  in 
the  Classic  manner,  we  should  make  every  liaison 
in  the  interior  of  each  line,  regardless  of  pauses,  and 
should  not  forget  that  m  and  n  when  final  were 
treated  like  other  consonants  in  this  respect.  At 
present,  except  in  the  instances  where  liaison  of  final 
n  is  universally  obligatory  (as  between  noun  and 
adjective,  ton  ami,  or  noun  and  preposition,  en  une 

heure,  or  verb  and  pronoun  subject  or  object,  on  a 
fait,  on  en  arrive),  the  French  never  make  liaison 
with  n.  For  m  there  is  no  exception.  But  Classic 
verse  made  it  with  final  n  everywhere,  and  thus 
avoided  what  looks  to  us  now  like  hiatus  in  many 

•  106  • 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

a  position  in  the  lines  of  even  that  master  of  polished 
Alexandrines,  Racine.  As  an  example  of  what  is  re- 
ferred to,  here  are  verses  from  Andromaque^  in 
which  cases  of  inevitable  hiatus  to  the  twentieth- 
century  ear,  were  liaisons  to  the  readers  of  the 
seventeenth. 

Ne  vous  suffit-il  pas  .  .  . 

Qu'  Hermione  est  le  prix  d'un  tyran  opprime: 

.   .    .  Pour  couronner  ma  joie. 

Dans  leur  sang,  dans  le  mien  il  faut  que  je  me  noic. 

Mais  enfin  a  I'autel  il  est  alle  tomber. 

Not  one  of  the  three  liaisons  indicated  would 
naturally  be  made  by  a  reader  to-day.  Tyran,  mien, 
and  enfin  would  each  end  in  a  nasal  vowel,  and  in 
no  case  would  the  least  suggestion  of  n  be  prefixed 
to  the  word  following. 

At  last,  having  combined  elision  and  liaison  (in- 
cluding that  of  ?n  and  n  in  all  instances)  with  the 
strict  syllabic  value  of  "mute"  e,  we  are  able  to  read 
Classic  French  verse  with  a  fairly  close  imitation  of 
its  original  sound.  Certain  differences,  as  oi  being 
like  we,  or  the  c  in  secret  being  actually  2.  g  m 
sound,  need  concern  us  no  more  than  does  in  English 
verse  the  fact  that  gold  was  once  called  goold,  and 
ear  had  much  the  sound  of  air.  We  have  the  general 
effect  and,  what  is  more  important,  we  have  the  type 
which  every  French  versifier  has  in  his  mind,  and 

•  107. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

the  fundamental  structure  which  every  intelligent 
reader  of  French  verse  must  refer  to,  no  matter  how 
he  modifies  it  in  order  to  conform  to  the  pronuncia- 
tion of  to-day. 

How  does  the  natural  present-day  pronunciation 
of  French  manage  to  accommodate  itself  to  the  strict 
canon  of  Malherbe  and  the  prescription  of  Boileau, 
when  verse  is  read  or  declaimed*?  In  the  first  place 
it  must  be  granted  that  many  actors  neglect  rhythm 
almost  entirely.  The  dramatic  is  ever  and  every- 
where the  foe  of  exactly  measured  utterance.  Con- 
sequently foreigners  are  inclined  to  think  that 
French  verse  as  heard  from  the  stage  is  scarcely  to 
be  distinguished  from  prose,  and  very  jerky  prose 
at  that.  Even  reciters,  called  by  the  French  diseurs^ 
are  often  so  preoccupied  by  the  "effects"  to  be  ob- 
tained that  they  spoil  what  the  versifier  has  taken 
infinite  pains  to  construct.  It  is  the  fashion  to  repeat 
La  Fontaine's  fables  at  children's  entertainments, 
but  with  so  much  dash,  archness,  and  comic  abrupt- 
ness that  rhyme  itself  disappears;  and  the  young 
audience  probably  does  not  suspect  that  La  Fontaine 
wrote  poetry.  Of  course,  what  is  meant  here  by 
modern  treatment  of  verse  is  not  this  dramatic  disre- 
gard of  its  very  structure,  a  disregard,  by  the  way, 
which  must  not  be  thought  characteristic  of  the 
greater  interpreters  of  the  Classic  theatre;  for  no 
small  part  of  their  genius  is  shown  in  combining  with 

.  108. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

their  action  a  wonderfully  rhythmic  and  sonorous, 
yet  seemingly  natural,  enunciation  of  the  great 
Alexandrines.  The  reading  and  speaking  of  poetry 
primarily  as  poetry,  particularly  in  the  lyrics,  is 
totally  different  from  the  search  after  theatrical 
effectiveness,  and  must  aim  at  giving  to  both  rhythm 
and  rhyme  their  full  part  in  the  poetic  composite. 

Rhyme  needs  no  special  effort  from  the  reader. 
It  is  there  before  his  eyes,  and  he  accepts  it  as  some- 
thing given  him  by  the  versifier,  something  he  does 
not  have  to  try  to  control ;  in  fact,  he  cannot  control 
it.  He  cannot  divest  the  verse  of  the  sound  of  it, 
unless  he  deliberately  violates  the  punctuation  and 
spoils  the  sense.  He  cannot  even  damage  the  rhyme 
without  mispronouncing  words,  for  French  pro- 
nunciation has  not  changed  enough  since  Ronsard 
to  endanger  this  feature  of  the  verse,  syllables  that 
rhymed  for  Ronsard  having,  as  a  rule,  changed 
together  and  rhyming  for  us  also.^ 

But  with  the  gradual  diminution  of  the  syllabic 
value  of  "mute"  e  in  prose, — a  process  that  has 
reduced  to  silence  the  final  "mute"  e  of  all  words  in 
which  it  is  not  a  supporting  vowel, — there  has  grown 
up  a  method  of  reading  verse  by  means  of  which 

^A  ityf  syllables  may  be  met  with  forming  exceptions  to  this 
statement,  notably  -ow,  -oit  which  once  had  the  sound  of  -oes, 
-oet,  -ur  for  eur  sometimes  sounded  like  -eur,  and  the  -us  final  of 
Latin  names  pronounced  formerly  like  the  -us  final  in  French,  but 
now  sounding  the  s. 

.  109. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


this  vowel  exists  partly  through  the  imitation  of 
archaic  pronunciation,  and  partly  by  what  may  be 
termed  a  prosodic  fiction.  No  reader  of  French  verse 
can  pronounce  all  the  "mute"  e's  that  Boileau,  for 
instance,  would  have  expected  to  have  a  sound;  and, 
knowing  this  fact,  very  few  French  versifiers  since 
the  Romantic  movement  gained  a  footing  have 
written  with  the  purpose  of  having  all  of  their 
"mute"  e  syllables  sounded.  Probably  when  Boileau 
wrote,  in  the  seventeenth  century, 

Telle  qu'une  bergere,  au  plus  beau  jour  de  fete, 
De  superbes  rubis  ne  charge  point  sa  tete,  .  .  . 

he  intended  that  one  should  say  "Telleu  qu'uneu''; 
but  it  is  almost  impossible  to  comply  with  his  inten- 
tion in  the  present  state  of  French  speech.  When 
Theophile  Gautier  wrote,  about  two  hundred  years 
later, 

C'est  bien  elle  toujours,  elle  que  j'ai  connue, 

he  hadn't  the  least  intention  that  his  readers  should 
pronounce  ''elleu''  At  any  rate,  he  had  good  grounds 
for  thinking  they  never  would  do  so,  and  he  must 
have  felt  that  the  verse  would  be  good  in  spite  of 
two  occurrences  of  elle.  However,  in  his  line, 

De  peur  qu'une  pensee  amere  ne  s'eveille, 

he  might  have  counted  upon  a  reading  of  "uneu" 
or  ''amereu^''  but  very  likely  he  knew  his  generation 

.  110. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

better  than  to  believe  that  both  the  "mute"  e' s  would 
be  observed  in  the  same  verse. 

What  actually  is  to  be  done  with  "mute"  ^,  and 
what  versifiers  for  the  past  eighty  years  evidently 
have  counted  upon,  is  to  dispose  of  it  in  one  of  three 
ways.  The  first  is  by  a  decidedly  old-fashioned  dis- 
tinctness in  its  utterance,  which  sometimes  is  in  con- 
formity with  current  practice  and  sometimes  is  truly 
archaic.  The  consciousness  that  the  e  is  there  is  taken 
as  justification  when  it  is  sounded  rather  more 
formally  as  a  supporting  vowel  than  would  be  usual 
in  prose.  And  as  its  function  is  considerable,  even  in 
prose,  when  it  arrives  fortuitously  between  con- 
sonants which  need  support  and  separation  for  their 
proper  clearness,  in  such  places  the  reader  of  verse 
sounds  it  with  some  slight  exaggeration.  This  is  not 
unnatural  to  the  French  ear,  but  only  a  trifling  em- 
phasis given  to  a  perfectly  normal  sound.  We  should 
always  in  verse  make  a  separate  syllable  of  final  e 
in  tremble  and  maitre  and  quelque^  when  there  is  no 
elision  to  suppress  it,  as  well  as  of  the  e  in  the  body 
of  a  word  like  ornement  {orneu?tient)  or  fortetnent 
{forteu?nent) ;  and  so  we  should  do  also  when  the 
"mute"  e  falls,  as  in  le  reste  du  temps^  and  il  com- 
mence ce  soir,  between  two  consonants  which  are 
called  identical,  i.e.,  are  formed  by  the  same  position 
of  the  speech  organs.  This  separation  of  /  and  d  in 
reste  du  temps  and  of  c  and  c  in  commence  ce,  is 

.  Ill . 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


almost  inaudible  in  common  conversation,  becomes 
plainer  in  formal  discourse  or  reading,  and  is  at  its 
maximum  in  verse.  In  this  connection  it  must  be 
noted  too  that  the  use  of  liaison  in  verse  often  brings 
about  this  very  condition  and  function  of  the  vowel 
e.  In  leur  courses  avides^  in  order  to  read  as  the 
French  read,  we  must  say  very  clearly  cour  sen 
zavid\  and  when  a  liaison,  as  in  roses  et  muguets, 
brings  a  juxtaposition  of  two  z's  there  is  all  the  more 
obligation  to  space  them;  so  the  pronunciation 
rozeuze  seems  a  matter  of  course.  But  many  other 
"mute"  e's  are  heard  in  verse,  and  these  are  un- 
deniably archaic  in  motive  and  effect.  In  all  mono- 
syllables such  as  se,  le,  ne,  de,  me,  very  many  of 
which  in  certain  combinations  have  no  vowel  at  all 
in  the  natural  utterance,  it  is  customary  to  give  the 
e  full  value. 

Or,  tout  ce  que  je  desire, 

cannot  be,  as  ordinarily  heard,  tons'  keu  j' desire,  but 
is  tout  ceu  queu  jeu  desire.  Very  frequently,  if  not 
always,  the  vowel  of  -ent  in  the  third  person  plural 
of  verbs,  which  our  first  teacher  of  French  has  prob- 
ably told  us  is  never  heard,  comes  out  with  full 
sound,  especially  when  a  liaison  is  made  with  the 
final  consonant.  lis  commencent  a  voir  is  heard  in 
verse  as  ils  commenceu  ta  voir,  and  eux  pensent  a 
toi  sounds  like  eux  penseu  ta  toi.  Outside  of  these 

.  112. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

cases  the  archaic  treatment  is  extended  to  a  great 
number  of  "mute"  es  for  whose  pronunciation,  un- 
fortunately, no  rule  can  be  given.  Individual  taste 
is  the  only  criterion  here;  and  all  that  ought  to  be 
said  is  that  some  readers  favor  the  older  movement 
of  a  verse  which  contains  a  large  infusion  of  eu,  and 
others  dislike  the  effect  of  the  sound  enough  to  avoid 
it  where  it  can  be  omitted.  The  character  of  the 
poetry,  too,  must  be  taken  into  account  before  per- 
sonal preference  is  given  play  in  this  regard.  The 
graver,  the  slower,  the  more  solemn  the  effect  re- 
quired, the  more  frequent  should  be  our  recourse  to 
the  sound  of  "mute"  e.  If  the  poem  is  light,  familiar, 
comic  perhaps,  then  "mute"  e  may  be,  had  better  be, 
literally  mute. 

This  statement  has  brought  us  to  the  second  way 
of  managing  a  vowel  which  has,  in  so  great  a 
majority  of  instances,  fallen  into  silence.  We  may 
neglect  its  sound  completely,  or  give  it  so  brief  and 
so  indistinct  an  existence  as  to  leave  merely  a  pause 
in  the  line  to  mark  the  place  where  it  once  was.  The 
process  is  similar  to  introducing  a  rest  in  music, 
instead  of  filling  the  bar  with  the  exact  quota  of 
notes  which  the  measure  indicates.  In  a  word  like 
comme  or  face.,  each  of  two  syllables  for  the  proso- 
dist,  but  commonly  monosyllabic,  the  present  plan 
is  to  say  connn\  fag\  pausing  after  the  words  long 
enough  to  satisfy  the  count  of  syllables.  "But,"  one 

.113. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

may  object,  "there  is  nothing  now  where  that  e  was, 
and  we  have  been  told  that  French  rhythm  depends 
upon  the  number  of  syllables  between  the  line-end 
pauses."  That  is  true,  or  rather  was  strictly  true 
when  the  "mute"  e  had  invariably  syllabic  value. 
Now  it  is  a  truth  only  in  the  conception  of  the 
French  of  average  culture,  who  know  that  even  in 
such  absences  of  sound  as  follow  comm'  and  fag^ 
there  is  a  syllable  theoretically  present.  Such  an 
explanation  would  be  as  truly  nonsensical  as  it  at 
first  appears,  if  the  final  e  had  reached  in  French  the 
completeness  of  extinction  which  that  letter  has 
suffered  in  English.  But  it  has  not  reached  it.  The 
Frenchman  who  reads  and  writes  may  say  fag^  for 
face^  but  he  is  never  oblivious  of  the  fact  that  the 
word  is  face.  In  spelling  it,  he  would  say  "/  ^,  fa^ 
c  e^  ceu.''  If  he  is  particularly  anxious  to  be  distinct, 
if  he  wishes  to  be  heard  at  a  distance,  or  if  he  is 
addressing  a  class  or  an  assembly,  we  shall  hear  him 
say  more  or  less  clearly  faceu.  The  example  chosen 
is  a  word  that  is  about  as  commonly  a  monosyllable 
in  practice  as  any  French  word  of  its  length,  but  it 
is  not  as  truly  monosyllabic  as  our  word  face^  or  our 
rage  or  pale.,  none  of  which  can  be  conceived  to  have 
a  syllable  in  its  final  vowel,  though  we  may  know 
that  such  was  once  its  nature.  We  are  too  far  re- 
moved in  point  of  linguistic  development  from  the 
time  when  such  words  were  dissyllables  to  feel  that 

.114. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

under  any  circumstances  they  might  be  more  than 
monosyllabic  now.  But  the  French  are  not  linguisti- 
cally so  distant  from  their  similar  phenomenon. 
"Mute"  ^,  to  them,  may  be  heard  or  not  heard, 
sounded  or  not  sounded.  It  may  be  inevitable  in  one 
combination  and  facultative  in  another.  It  may  be 
formed  as  completely  as  any  other  vowel  in  giving 
emphasis  or  loudness  to  some  particular  word,  and 
it  may  be  eliminated  entirely  from  the  same  word 
when  uttered  rapidly,  carelessly,  or  without  stress. 
Yet  "mute"  e  is  to  the  French  mind  an  entity,  and 
in  verse  its  presence  can  be  felt  when  its  sound  is 
absent,  and  its  place  is  taken  by  a  "rest,"  i.e.^  a  brief 
silence.  In  the  following  lines  such  "mute"  e's  as 
are  to  be  represented  by  "rests"  are  inverted. 

Marchez !  I'humanite  ne  vit  pas  d^une  idee ! 
Elle  eteint  chaqua  soir  celle  qui  I'a  guidee, 
Elle  en  allume  une  autre  a  rimmortel  flambeau : 
Comma  ces  morts  vetus  de  leur  parure  immonde, 
Les  generations  emportent  de  ce  monde 

Leurs  vetements  dans  le  tombeau. 

La,  c'est  leurs  dieux ;  ici,  les  moeurs  de  leurs  ancetres, 
Le  glaiva  des  tyrans,  I'amulette  des  pretres, 
Vieux  lambeaux,  vils  haillons  de  cultes  ou  de  lois: 
Et  quand  apres  mille  ans  dans  leurs  caveaux  on  fouille, 
On  est  surpris  de  voir  la  risible  depouille 
De  ce  qui  fut  I'homme  autrefois. 

.115. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Robas,  togas,  turbans,  tuniquas,  pourpre,  bure, 
Sceptres,  glaivas,  faisceaux,  hachas,  houlette,  armure, 
Symbobs  vermoulus  fondent  sous  votre  main, 
Tour  a  tour  au  plus  fort,  au  plus  fourbe,  au  plus  digne, 
Et  vous  vous  demandez  vainement  sous  quel  signe 
Monte  ou  baissa  le  genre  humain. 

Sous  le  votre,  6  chretiens !    L'homme  en  qui  Dieu  travaille 
Change  eternellement  de  formes  et  de  taille : 
Geant  de  I'avenir,  a  grandir  destine, 
II  use  en  vieillissant  ses  vieux  vetements,  comme 
Des  membres  elargis  font  eclater  sur  l'homme 
Les  langes  ou  I'enfant  est  ne. 

Lamartine. 

Par  la  chaine  d'or  des  etoiles  vives 
La  Lampe  du  ciel  pend  du  sombre  azur 
Sur  I'immensa  mer,  les  monts  et  les  rives. 
Dans  la  molle  paix  de  Fair  tiede  et  pur 
Bercee  au  soupir  des  houles  pensives. 
La  Lampe  du  ciel  pend  du  sombre  azur 
Par  la  chaine  d'or  des  etoiles  vives. 

Elle  baigne,  emplit  I'horizon  sans  fin 
De  I'enchantement  de  sa  clarte  calme; 
Elle  argente  I'ombre  au  fond  du  ravin, 
Et,  perlant  les  nids,  poses  sur  la  palme. 
Qui  dormant,  legers,  leur  sommeil  divin, 
,  De  I'enchantement  de  sa  clarte  calme 
Elle  baigne,  emplit  I'horizon  sans  fin. 

Dans  le  doux  abime,  6  Lune,  ou  tu  plonges, 
Es-tu  le  soleil  des  morts  bienheureux, 

.116. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Le  blanc  paradis  ou  s'en  vont  leurs  songes? 
O  monde  muet,  epanchant  sur  eux 
De  beaux  reves  faits  de  meilleurs  mensonges, 
Es-tu  le  soleil  des  morts  bienheureux, 
Dans  le  doux  abime,  6  Lune,  ou  tu  plonges  ? 

Leconie  de  Lisle. 

Relatively  few  "mute"  e's  have  been  inverted  in 
the  two  extracts  just  given.  What  is  to  be  done 
with  such  of  the  others  as  do  not  disappear  in  eli- 
sions? Some  of  them  may,  others  must,  have  the 
complete  syllabic  sound  eu.  For  instance,  in  the 
fifth  line  of  the  Lamartine  verse  emportent  de  is 
natural  as  emporteu  deu.  The  distinct  utterance  of 
/  and  d  requires  such  an  intervening  sound  in  very 
formal  style,  and  is  perfectly  admissible  in  a  poem. 

In  the  eleventh  line  of  the  same  extract,  we  have 
to  say  risibleu  depouille^  because  almost  any  culti- 
vated person  would  sound  the  supporting  vowel, 
especially  before  the  d  of  the  second  word. 

But  there  are  other  examples  of  "mute"  ^,  un- 
elided,  which  can  hardly  be  disposed  of  by  uttering 
the  sound  eu,  or  by  an  infinitesimal  pause.  They 
must  be  provided  for  by  some  means.  Some  of  those 
we  have  inverted  could  be  treated  differently. 

The  third  expedient  employed  by  the  French  of 
to-day  in  the  management  of  "mute"  e  in  their  read- 
ing of  verse  is  to  leave  it  entirely  out  of  the  pro- 
nunciation, with  no  compensating  rest  or  pause,  if 

.117. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

it  seems  too  unnatural  to  be  admitted;  but  even  in 
this  treatment  it  is  not  forgotten.  Its  former  exist- 
ence is  recognized,  and  its  absence  compensated  for, 
by  the  lengthening  of  an  adjacent  syllable,  usually 
that  preceding  the  neglected  sound.  In  many  words 
which  end  in  "mute"  e  there  is  a  moderately  long 
vowel  in  the  last  fully  pronounced  syllable,  and 
with  the  French  elasticity  in  the  matter  of  vowel 
duration  no  inconvenience  is  felt  when  the  syllable 
in  question  is  stretched  a  trifle  to  make  up  for  a  final 
syllable  whose  omission  would  otherwise  shorten  the 
line.  Such  words  as  pere^  faire^  reve,  meme^  are  not 
heard,  except  in  singing,  as  dissyllables;  and  as  their 
habit  is  to  be  decidedly  long  at  the  end  of  a  breath  or 
sense  group,  and  of  medium  length  everywhere  else, 
it  is  less  abnormal  to  give  them  unusual  duration  in 
verse  than  it  would  be  to  require  that  they  be  pro- 
nounced pereu^  faireu^  etc.  But  this  method  of  com- 
pensation is  not  limited  to  words  of  any  particular 
number  of  syllables,  nor  to  any  special  classes  of 
words,  nor  is  it  always  used  to  the  exclusion  of  the 
second  treatment  of  "mute"  e.  It  can  be  resorted  to 
in  meme^  for  example,  and  the  final  e  can  be  indi- 
cated at  the  same  time  by  a  "rest"  or  by  the  shortest 
conceivable  vowel  sound.  What  the  versifier  intends 
is,  of  course,  that  meme  should  be  counted  as  two 
syllables,  and  the  reader  can  convey  that  intention: 
by  saying  metneu,  as  if  he  were  living  in  the  six- 

.118. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

teenth  century;  or  by  giving  a  very  long  me7n\ 
lengthening  both  the  e  and  the  m  that  follows  it;  or 
he  may  prolong  the  e  and  the  m  X.o  2.  less  degree,  and 
then  pause  almost  imperceptibly  for  the  neglected 
final  e.  In  the  extract  which  will  now  be  introduced 
all  of  these  subterfuges  that  have  come  in  to  help 
readers  over  the  stumbling  block  of  the  syllabic 
"mute"  e  are  to  be  observed. 

Le  grand  soleil,  plonge  dans  un  royal  ennui, 

Brule  au  desert  des  cieux.  Sous  les  traits  qu'en  silence 

II  disperse  et  rappelle  incessament  a  lui, 

Le  choeur  grave  et  lointain  des  spheres  se  balance. 

Suspendu  dans  rabime,  il  n'est  ni  haut  ni  bas ; 
II  ne  prend  d'aucun  feu  le  feu  qu'il  communique; 
Son  regard  ne  s'eleve  et  ne  s'abaisse  pas ; 
Mais  I'univers  se  dore  a  sa  jeunesse  antique. 

Flamboyant,  invisible  a  force  de  splendeur, 
II  est  pere  des  bles,  qui  sont  peres  des  races, 
Mais  il  ne  peuple  point  son  immense  rondeur 
D'un  troupeau  de  mortels  turbulents  et  voraces. 

Parmi  les  globes  noirs  qu'il  empourpre  et  conduit 
Aux  blemes  profondeurs  que  I'air  leger  fait  bleues, 
La  terre  lui  soumet  la  courbe  qu'elle  suit, 
Et  cherche  sa  caresse  a  d'innombrables  lieues. 

We  owe  the  noting  given  below  to  Professor  E. 
Koschwitz,  whose  investigation  of  the  reading  and 
pronunciation  of  certain  authors  and  actors  is  of  the 

.119- 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

highest  value.  The  following  stanzas  are  his  repre- 
sentation of  Le  Lever  du  Soleil  as  read  by  its  author, 
Sully-Prudhomme.  Nearly  all  indications  as  to  pro- 
nunciation are  neglected  here  except  such  as  apply  to 
the  three  manners  of  treating  "mute"  e.  Where  the  e 
is  to  be  heard  fully  syllabic,  with  the  value  of  eu, 
that  fact  is  noted  by  using  an  italic  letter.  An  e  sup- 
pressed in  the  pronunciation  and  replaced  by  a 
"rest"  is  inverted  in  the  text,  9.  The  e  suppressed, 
with  compensation  from  the  lengthening  of  a  pre- 
ceding syllable,  is  represented  by  an  inverted  9  in 
parentheses  (a),  and  the  lengthened  vowel  or  con- 
sonant is  followed  by  a  colon  (o:).  Elision  and 
liaison  are  indicated  by  w-  between  the  letters  af- 
fected. The  elided  e  has  no  special  mark.  Certain 
vowels  are  followed  by  a  colon  (Bruile)  to  show 
length  which  is  intrinsic  and  not  due  to  suppression 
of  "mute"  e. 

L.e  grand  soleil,  plonge  dans  un  royal  ennui, 

Bru :  le  au  desert  des  cieux.  Sous  les  traits  qu'en  silen :  ca 

II  disperse  et  rappelle  incessamment  a  lui, 

Le  choeur  grave  et  lointain  des  sphe:  r(3)  se  balan:c3. 

Suspendu  dans  I'abime  il  n'est  ni  haut  ni  bas ; 

II  ne  prend  d'aucun  feu  \e  feu  qu'il  communiqua ; 
Son  regard  ne  s'eleve  et  ne  s'abai:  55(3)  pas; 

Mais  I'univers  se  dore  a  sa  jeunesse  anti :  qua. 
.  120. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Flamboyant,  invisible  a  force  de  splendeur, 

II  est  pe:  r(3)  des  bles,  qui  sent  pe:  r(3)s  des  racas, 
Mais  il  ne  peuplf  point  son  immen :  se  rondeu :  r 

D'un  troupeau  de  mortels  turbulents  et  voracas. 

Parmi  les  globas  noi :  rs  qu'il  empourpre  et  conduit 

Aux  ble:m(3)s  profondeu:rs  que  I'air  leger  fait  bleuas, 
La  te:rr(3)  lui  soumet  la  courbe  qu'elb  suit, 
Et  chercha  sa  caresse  a  d'innombra:bl(3)s  lieuas. 

The  compensation  for  the  "mute"  e  that  has  been 
wholly  or  even  partly  suppressed  in  modem  pro- 
nunciation, by  prolonging  a  preceding  syllable  is 
admirably  shown  in  the  verses  by  Leconte  de  Lisle 
given  on  page  1 16.  Syllables  naturally  long  are  con- 
siderably extended  in  order  to  make  up  for  the 
absent  sound  of  an  e  immediately  following.  This  is 
especially  noticeable  in  the  use  of  words  ending 
in  "mute"  e  preceded  by  a  nasal  vowel  and  a  con- 
sonant, nasals  in  such  position  being  always  long  and 
susceptible  of  lengthening  without  unnatural  effect. 
The  words  lampe,  immense^  argente,  plonges^  songes, 
monde,  mensonges,  are  of  this  kind;  and  the  long 
nasal  vowel  permits  of  the  obliteration  of  a  succeed- 
ing e  without  perceptible  shortening  of  the  line. 
Chame,  tiede^  baigne^  abzme^  reves,  are  by  nature 
provided  with  a  length  in  the  last  vowel  but  one, 
which  can  be  made  to  conceal  in  similar  manner  the 
loss  of  "mute"  e.  In  some  cases,  where  elision  takes 

.  121 . 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

place,  there  is  no  exercise  of  this  lengthening  privi- 
lege for  the  purpose  in  question.  The  word  enchante- 
ment  is  a  peculiar  instance  of  the  permissible  pro- 
longation of  a  nasal,  for  although  in  such  verse  as 
Leconte  de  Lisle's  we  may  say  enchanteument^  it  is 
less  strange  to  give  the  everyday  pronunciation 
enchantment^  and  to  prolong  the  nasal  of  the  second 
syllable  to  make  up  for  the  disappearance  of  the  e. 

It  is  not  a  very  long  time  since  the  French  them- 
selves knew  nothing,  or  could  tell  foreigners  nothing, 
about  this  ^  as  a  feature  of  French  versification;  but 
of  late  their  treatises  contain  much  on  the  subject. 
Ph.  Martinon,  in  his  very  clever  little  book.  Com- 
ment on  Frononce  le  Franfais,  has  this  to  say 
about  the  "mute"  e,  whose  office  in  prose  he  dis- 
cusses at  great  length  elsewhere: 

"We  cannot  end  this  chapter  without  saying  a 
word  on  the  question  of  verse,  of  which  'mute'  e  is 
one  of  the  most  noticeable  charms,  and  one  of  the 
most  mysterious.  'Mute'  e  is  one  of  the  most  remark- 
able characteristics  of  French  poetry.  Therefore  the 
principles  which  have  just  been  developed  cannot 
apply  to  the  reading  of  verse,  which  exacts  a  special 
kind  of  respect  for  'mute'  e.  Here  is  a  verse  from 
Victor  Hugo's  f  Expiation: 

'Sombres  jours!   I'Empereur   revenait  lentfment.' 

We  will  let  the  actors  articulate  nine  syllables,  as 

.  122. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

if  it  was  a  sentence  from  the  works  of  Thiers.  But 
in  this  line  we  need  twelve,  if  they  can  be  found. 
The  'mute'  e  of  empereur  is  the  only  one,  evidently, 
which  cannot  be  pronounced,  for  according  to  the 
usual  pronunciation  it  belongs  to  those  e' s  that  ought 
not  to  be  written  at  all.  Does  it  follow  from  that 
that  we  are  to  let  it  drop  out  completely*?  Not  a  bit; 
the  ear  must  perceive  a  trace  of  it,  if  there  is  only  a 
half  of  a  quarter  of  a  'mute'  e.  It  will  be  enough, 
even,  to  bear  down  and  linger  upon  the  preceding 
syllable  to  make  the  ear  realize  that  here  is  some- 
thing like  a  half  syllable.  And  no  doubt  this  is  diffi- 
cult; but  the  others  show  no  difficulty.  The  e's  of 
revenait  should  both  be  pronounced  fully,  and  as 
to  the  e  in  lentement^  it  can  easily  be  made  to  sound 
more  than  that  in  empereur.  Doesn't  the  sense  itself 
require  it*?"^ 

"Now  another  verse,  of  a  very  different  kind, 
which  cannot  be  rendered,  either,  in  any  manner  that 
happens  first  to  offer  itself: 

*Jf  veux  ce  que  \e  veux,  parce  qu*?  ']e\e  veux.' 

The  first  element,  je  veux.,  should  be  followed  by 
a  pause;  the  second  element  has  four  syllables,  the 
first  and  third  ought  to  be  pronounced,  though  in 
ordinary  usage  they  would  not  be  heard.  In  the  last 

^Because  lentement  is  appropriately  heard  with  the  slowness  and 
waiting  suggested  by  "lenteument." 

.123. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

half  of  the  verse  the  que  must  be  stressed  (and  there- 
fore prolonged) ;  if  it  is  not,  all  the  'mute'  e's  will 
have  to  be  sounded. 

"In  this  other  verse  from  Hugo, 

*Mais  ne  vne  dis  jamais  que  ']e  ne  t'aime  pas,' 

which  in  rapidly  spoken  prose  would  contain  only 
eight  syllables,  all  the  'mute'  e's  must  be  heard 
except  the  last  (in  ai?ne) ;  and  that  one  is  to  be  fell 
rather  than  heard,  the  prolongation  of  ai  and  of  m 
being  enough  to  mark  the  existence^  of  the  e  follow- 
ing." 

Martinon's  prescription  for  the  reading  of  the 
lines  which  he  quotes  presumes  a  great  deal  better 
appreciation  of  the  problem  than  a  foreigner  can  be 
asked  to  feel.  To  have  cited  it  before  our  explana- 
tion, would  have  been  without  effect;  but  coming  at 
the  point  where  it  has  been  introduced,  it  should  be 
comprehensible,  and  should  serve  as  confirmation  of 
what  has  been  asserted.  Martinon,  writing  for  his 
countrymen,  is  brief;  but  his  meaning  is  not  different 
from  the  meaning  of  the  rather  lengthy  exposition 
it  has  seemed  necessary  to  offer  to  English-speaking 
readers. 

1  Martinon's  idea  that  the  existence  of  the  e  is  "marked"  by 
the  lengthening  of  the  preceding  syllable  is  not  hostile  to  the 
notion  already  stated,  that  this  lengthening  compensates  for  the 
neglect  of  the  e.  It  is  hardly  safe,  however,  to  say  that  the  pro- 
longation of  a  syllable  implies  a  "mute"  e  immediately  follow- 
ing it. 

.  124- 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

If  non-French  authority  were  needed  on  this  topic, 
Koschwitz,  in  Les  Purlers  Parisiens,  page  89,  com- 
menting on  the  methods  of  an  actor  of  the  Comedie 
Fran^aise  well  remembered  by  many  of  this  genera- 
tion, says,  "Monsieur  Got  makes  much  of  the  ad- 
vantage to  be  obtained  from  the  pronunciation  or 
suppression  of  'mute'  e;  the  greater  the  emphasis 
the  more  'mute'  es  must  be  sounded,  and  the 
greater  the  familiarity  of  style  the  fewer  should  be 
heard.  In  verse  we  should  make  them  felt  in  some 
way  or  other." 

From  what  has  been  shown,  and  from  the  ex- 
amples of  the  method  of  handling  "mute"  e  in 
present-day  reading,  it  must  be  reasonably  clear 
that  the  general  effect  of  French  verse  is  very  differ- 
ent from  the  effect  aimed  at  by  the  poets  of  the 
Classic  centuries.  If  this  difference  is  not  plain 
enough,  let  us  take  some  extract  written  in  the  early 
part  of  the  seventeenth  century,  and  mark  its  sylla- 
ble scheme  as  it  undoubtedly  was  heard  at  the  time 
of  its  construction ;  then  let  us  indicate  how  the  same 
extract  has  to  be  read  now  in  order  to  make  it  both 
comprehensible  and  acceptable  to  French  ears.  In 
The  Cdd,  Comeille  wrote  (every  "mute"  e  which 
cannot  be  elided  having  the  sound  of  eu,  as  indi- 
cated by  italic  letters) : 

Mais  bientot,  malgre  nous,  leurs  princes  les  rallient. 
Leur  courage  renait,  et  leurs  terreurs  s'oubU<?nt, 

.125. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

La  home  de  mourir  sans  avoir  combattu 
Arrets  leur  desordre,  et  leur  rend  leur  vertu. 

To-day  we  read  the  above  lines  with  certain  long 
syllables  and  certain  silent  spaces.  (Notice  the  long 
or  lengthened  syllables,  printed  in  bold  face.) 

Mais  bientot,  malgre  nous,  leurs  princ'les  ralli'. 
Leur  courag'  renait,  et  leurs  terreurs  s'oubli', 
La  hont'  de  mourir  sans  avoir  combattu 
Arret'  leur  desordr',  et  leur  rend  leur  vertu. 

The  difference  between  the  two  renderings  is  small; 
but  as  time  has  gone  on,  the  suppression  of  the  sound 
of  "mute"  e  favoring  a  prolongation  of  the  syllable 
immediately  preceding  the  silent  vowel,  French 
poets  have  learned  to  profit  by  the  presence  of  long 
syllables,  and  to  introduce  them  into  their  lines  ac- 
cording to  a  kind  of  plan.  The  result  is  something 
which  is  a  great  relief  from  the  click-clack  of  the 
Classic  verse,  and  which  enables  a  verse-maker  to 
produce  contrasts  by  means  of  quantity,  and  to  im- 
port into  the  language  a  slowness  and  a  gravity  that 
its  prose  rarely  exhibits.  The  transcriptions  of  read- 
ing by  Leconte  de  Lisle  and  Mme.  Bartet  demon- 
strate the  part  played  by  quantity  in  modern  verse. 
In  the  following,  the  bold  face  type  used  for  certain 
syllables  indicates,  of  course,  no  change  of  vowel 
quality  (as  in  can  and  cane  in  English),  but  is 
intended  to  advise  the  reader  to  protract  the  syllable 

.  126. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

bearing  it  to  quite  twice  its  ordinary  prose  length. 
The  only  mark  other  than  that  of  length  is  the  itali- 
cizing of  such  "mute"  es  as  properly  should  be 
given  syllabic  value, 

LA  VERANDAH 

Au  tintement  Ae  I'eau  dans  les  porphyres  roux 
Les  rosiers  d<?  I'lran  melent  leurs  frais  murmures, 
Et  les  ramiers  reveurs  leur  roucoulement  doux, 
Tandis  que  I'oiseau  grele  et  \e  frelon  jaloux, 
Sifflant  et  bourdonnant,  mordent  les  figues  mures, 
Les  rosiers  de  I'lran  melent  leurs  frais  murmures 
Au  tintement  de  I'eau  dans  les  porphyres  roux. 

Sous  les  treillis  d'argent  Ae  la  verandah  close 
Dans  I'air  tiede,  embaimie  de  I'odeur  des  jasmins, 
Ou  la  splendeur  du  jour  darde  une  flechi?  rose, 
La  Persani?  royale,  immobile,  repose, 
Derriere  son  col  brun  croisant  ses  belles  mains, 
Dans  I'air  tiede,  embaume  de  I'odeur  des  jasmins, 
Sous  les  treillis  d'argent  de  la  verandah  close. 

Jusqu'aux  levres  que  I'ambre  arrondi  baise  encor, 
Du  cristal  d'ou  s'echappe  une  vapeur  subtile. 
Qui  monte  en  tourbillons  legers  et  prend  I'essor 
Sur  les  coussins  de  sole,  ecarlate  aux  fleurs  d'or. 
La  branche  du  houka  rode,  comme  un  reptile, 
Du  cristal  d'oii  s'echappe  une  vapeur  subtile, 
Jusqu'aux  levres  que  I'ambre  arrondi  baise  encor, 

Leconte  de  Lisle. 
.127. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


La  mer!  et  sur  les  flots  toujours  bleus,  toujours  calmes, 
Jusqu'au  sable  roulant  I'argent  clair  de  leurs  palmes, 

Des  voiles  comme  des  oiseaux, 

A  la  fois  changeants  et  fideles, 

Effleurent  d'une  blancheur  d'ailes 

La  face  tremblant^  des  eaux ! 
Mais,  helas!  sur  ces  bords,  ou  tristement  je  marche, 
En  vain  j 'attends  ton  vol,  6  colombe  de  I'arche, 
Messager^  d'espoir  m'annon<^ant  le  retour!  .   .   . 

Six  mois  deja  que,  chaque  jour, 
Devant  comme  apres  I'heure  ou,  dans  le  crepuscule, 

Palpit^  le  voile  des  airs. 
Que  le  soleil  se  leve  ou  dans  le  ciel  r^cule, 
Mes  yeux  fouillent  en  vain  les  horizons  deserts. 

Sourire  de  I'aube  vermeille. 

Adieu  du  soir  eblouissant, 
N'ont  pour  moi  qu'une  ombr^  pareille. 
Tout  m'est  douleur  quand  je  pense  a  I'absent! 

From  Griselidis,  Act  II,  scene  3,  as  recited  by  Madame  Bartet. 

The  two  extracts  present  considerable  contrast  in 
the  number  and  regularity  of  occurrence  of  long 
syllables.  La  Verandah  is  a  lyric  of  great  symmetry, 
and  is  purposely  dreamy.  Its  author  was  evidently 
reading  it  with  full  appreciation  of  his  own  musical 
intention.  On  the  other  hand,  the  actress  recites  with 
an  eye  to  natural  expression,  and  yet  manages  to 
maintain  the  effect  of  verse  structure  and  to  give  it 
all  the  quantitative  relief  that  the  dramatist's  words 
permit. 

.  128. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Of  somewhat  weaker  authority  are  the  phonetic 
transcriptions  of  verse  by  M.  Paul  Passy,  because 
he  has  a  tendency  to  represent  popular  rather  than 
cultivated  pronunciation;  but  even  he  recognizes  the 
long  syllables  wherever  they  occur,  and  seems  vitally 
appreciative  of  their  value.  In  what  is  to  follow, 
long  syllables  will  be  marked  as  before,  and  "mute" 
e's  of  syllabic  sound  will  be  italicized.  No  deviation 
from  M.  Passy's  indications  will  be  found. 

Ainsi,  toujours  pousses  vers  de  nouveaux  rivages, 
Dans  la  nuit  eternelle  emportes  sans  retour, 
Nf  pourrons-nous  jamais  sur  I'ocean  des  ages 
Jijter  I'ancre  un  seul  jour*? 

O  lac !  I'annee  a  peine  a  fini  sa  carriere, 
Et  pres  des  flots  cheris  qu'elle  d^vait  revoir, 
Regarde !  ']e  viens  seul  m'asseoir  sur  cette  pierre 
Oil  tu  la  vis  s'asseoir! 

Tu  mugissais  ainsi  sous  ces  roches  profondes; 
Ainsi  tu  te  brisais  sur  leurs  flancs  dechires ; 
Ainsi  \e  vent  jetait  I'ecume  de  tes  ondes 
Sur  ses  pieds  adores. 


O  lac !  rochers  muets  !  grottes  !  foret  obscure ! 
Vous  qu^  \e  temps  epargne  ou  qu'il  pent  rajeunir, 
Gardez  de  cette  nuit,  gardez  belle  nature, 
Au  moins  \e  souvenir ! 

.  129. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


Qu'il  soit  dans  ton  r^pos,  qu'il  soit  dans  tes  orages. 
Beau  lac,  et  dans  I'aspect  de  tes  riants  coteaux, 
Et  dans  ces  noirs  sapins,  et  dans  ces  rocs  sauvages 
Qui  pendent  sur  tes  eaux ! 

Qu'il  soit  dans  \e  zephyr  qui  fremit  et  qui  passe, 
Dans  les  bruits  de  tes  bords  par  tes  bords  repetes, 
Dans  I'astre  au  front  d'argent  qui  blanchit  ta  surface 
De  ses  moUes  clartes. 

Que  \e  vent  qui  gemit,  \e  roseau  qui  soupire. 
Que  les  parfums  legers  de  ton  air  embaume. 
Que  tout  ce  qu'on  entend.  Ton  voit  ou  Ton  respire. 
Tout  disc :  ils  ont  aime ! 

Lamar  tine. 

The  movement  of  Le  Lac  is  such  that,  with  the 
exception  of  the  long  final  syllable  of  most  of  the 
lines,  little  use  is  made  of  length.  M.  Passy,  too,  is 
more  inclined  to  compensate  for  suppressed  "mute" 
e's  by  the  use  of  "rests"  than  by  prolonging  syllables. 
This  is  common  enough  in  the  reading  of  French 
verse  by  people  who  give  no  especial  attention  to 
its  rhythm.  It  does  very  well  for  the  poem  quoted, 
whose  flow  is  too  regular  and  too  obvious  to  be 
frustrated  or  concealed  by  the  poorest  reader  likely 
to  attack  it.  The  use  of  "rests"  is  not  enough,  how- 
ever, for  most  cases.  If  the  verse  of  the  present  time, 
or  that  of  the  Romantic  school,  is  to  make  its  proper 
impression,  the  prolongation  of  syllables  is  never  a 

.130. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

matter  of  indifference.  The  last  full  syllable  of  each 
line  that  ends  in  "mute"  ^,  and  the  syllable  im- 
mediately before  the  cesura  are  the  most  likely  to 
be  long  or  susceptible  of  lengthening.  Two  things 
operate  in  their  prolongation,  the  natural  duration 
of  a  syllable  just  before  a  pause,  and  the  increase  of 
length  of  most  long  and  medium  syllables  when 
stressed.  Syllables  are,  however,  evidently  selected 
for  these  positions  with  some  reference  to  their  in- 
herent quantity.  An  example  will  make  plainer  what 
is  meant  and  will  serve  to  give  practice. 

Let  us  take  a  familiar  poem  by  Alfred  de  Musset, 
as  transcribed  by  Paul  Passy,  and  let  us  follow 
Passy's  indications  as  to  long  syllables  and  "mute" 
e's.  "Mute"  es  which  are  not  italicized  are  either 
elided  or  silent.  The  italic  letter  will  be  used  for  e 
syllabic,  and  a  colon  (  :)  will  show  that  the  syllable 
preceding  it  is  prolonged.  In  some  instances  the  colon 
will  be  seen  after  a  consonant  because  it  is  the  con- 
sonant, rather  than  the  vowel,  which  gives  length  to 
the  syllable.  The  colon  following  ?2  in  such  a  word 
as  pensait  {pen:  sait)  means  of  course,  not  that  n  is 
long,  but  that  the  nasal  sound  in  pen  is  lengthened. 
In  the  stanzas  below  length  is  by  no  means  always 
compensation  for  a  subsequent  suppressed  e.  Some- 
times it  is  due  to  natural  or  oratorical  stress,  par- 
ticularly immediately  before  a  pause  of  some 
importance. 

.131. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Elle  etait  bell :  e,  si  la  nuit 
Qui  do :  rt  dans  la  som :  brg  chapell :  e 
Ou  Michel-An :  ge  a  fait  son  lit, 
Immobil :  e  pent  etr^  bell :  e. 

Elle  etait  bonn :  e,  s'il  suffit 

Qu'en  pa :  ssant  la  main  s'ou :  vre  et  donn :  e, 

Sans  qu(?  Dieu  n'ait  rien :  vu,  rien :  dit, 

Si  I'orr  sans  pitie  fait  I'aumon :  e. 

Elle  pen :  sait,  si  \e  vain  bruit 
D'une  voix  douce  et  cadencee, 
Comme  \e  ruisseau  qui  gemit, 
Peut  faire  croi :  re  a  la  pensee. 

Elle  priait,  si  deux  beaux  yeux 
Tan :  tot  s'attachant  a  la  terre, 
Tan :  tot  s^  levant  vers  les  cieux, 
Peuvent  s'appeler  la  prie :  re. 

Elle  aurait  souri,  si  la  fleu :  r 
Qui  ne  s'est  poin  :  t  epanouie, 
Pouvait  s'ouvri:  r  a  la  fraicheu:  r, 
Du  vent  qui  pass :  e  et  qui  I'oublie. 

Elle  aurait  pleu :  re,  si  sa  main, 
Sur  son  coeu :  r  f  roidement  posee 
Eut  jamais  dans  I'argile  humain 
Senti  la  celesti?  rosee. 

Elle  aurait  ai :  me,  si  I'orgue :  il 
Parei :  He  a  la  lam :  pe  inutil :  e 
Qu'on  allume  pres  d'un  cercue :  il 
N'eut  veille  sur  son  coeu :  r  steril :  e. 

.132. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Elle  est  morte  et  n'a  poin  :  t  vecu  ; 
Elle  faisait  semblant  de  vi :  vre. 
De  sa  main  est  tombe  \e  li :  vre 
Dans  kquel  elle  n'a  rien :  lu. 

At  this  point  of  the  investigation  it  can  hardly 
fail  to  be  seen  that  quantity,  that  is,  syllable  length, 
plays  a  role  in  French  versification.  As  said  near  the 
beginning  of  this  book,  it  cannot  ever  be  the  basis 
of  the  rhythm,  because  of  its  uncertain  character 
and  its  variable  occurrence;  but  as  one  grows  famil- 
iar with  the  poetry  of  France  between  1830  and  the 
present  day,  the  effectiveness  of  the  contrast  between 
short  and  long  syllables  becomes  more  and  more 
appreciated.  No  reader  should  be  discouraged  if  at 
first  these  long  or  prolonged  units  are  not  obvious; 
in  the  Classic  verse  they  need  not  be  looked  for  very 
often,  and  in  later  poetry  it  will  be  enough  if  the 
line-end  and  the  cesura  are  watched  for  probable 
length.  Gradually  one  learns  to  lengthen  in  order 
to  compensate  for  a  "mute"  e;  and  last  of  all,  the 
syllables  that  are  naturally  long  get  to  be  known. 
For  the  benefit  of  the  reader  who  has  not  given  much 
thought  to  the  matter  of  quantity  in  his  ordinary 
pronunciation  of  French,  here  is  a  short  list  of 
vowels  and  syllables  that  can  safely  be  called 
"long."  For  any  particular  word  that  is  puzzling, 
reference  can  quickly  be  made  to  the  little  Diction- 
naire  Phonetique  of  Michaelis-Passy,  published  by 

•  133- 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Carl  Meyer,  Hannover  and  Berlin,  which  can  be 
obtained  from  Hachette  in  London,  or  from  the 
book  importers  in  New  York. 

(If  we  remember  that  any  vowel  that  is  set  down 
in  what  follows  as  being  normally  long  becomes  con- 
siderably shorter  when  in  an  unemphasized  position 
and  far  from  the  end  of  a  breath  group,  we  shall 
appreciate  what  is  meant  by  the  common  statement 
that  there  are  three  degrees  of  length  for  French 
vowels.  The  long  vowels  to  be  noted  are  especially 
long  when  stressed,  and  longest  when  terminating 
a  breath  group.) 

LONG  VOWELS 

1.  In  a  final  syllable,  when  a  sounded  consonant  follows, 
if  the  vowel  sound  is  o  or  eu  (close  sound  as  in  feu)  or  any 
nasal  vowel. 

Examples :  cote,  meult,  \a7np€,  sonde,  smple,  dense. 

2.  In  a  final  syllable,  any  vowel  sound  followed  by  a 
sounded  r,  v,  s,  z,  /  (g  having  the  /  sound)  or  i  used  as 
semiconsonant. 

Examples:  ruse,  lourd,  sort,  soleil,  tzge,  rouge,  age, 
seve,  sceur,  partzr,  hum^wr,  jour,  alors,  dorm^z/se, 
tir,  mer. 

Note:  The  length  affects  the  single  vowel  sound  in 
the  case  of  a  digraph,  and  the  second  element  only 
in  the  case  of  a  diphthong,  as  {aire,  \eur,  Y>our,  auge, 
etc.,  but  vozr,  luzre,  \oyage. 

3.  In  a  final  syllable  a  and  0  are  usually  long  before  a 
sounded  consonant. 

•134- 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Examples :  dme,  aumone,  p^sse. 
4.  In  a  final  syllable  e  and  e  are  usually  long,  and  ai 
and  ei  having  the  same  sound,  before  a  sounded  consonant. 
Examples :  t^te,  meme,  b<?le,  reine,  peine,  pl^me. 

One  thing  more  should  be  said  here,  that  is,  that 
few  English-speaking  readers  of  French  are  in  any 
danger  of  giving  too  much  length  to  a  long  syllable 
in  the  verse.  The  tendency  of  a  foreigner  is  always 
to  pronounce  with  too  little  difference  between  the 
short  and  the  long  vowels  in  French,  and  because 
the  language  seems  rapid  in  utterance,  to  make  all 
the  vowels  short.  This  error  is  not  so  harmful  in 
prose  as  in  verse;  for  the  movement  of  poetry  is 
comparatively  slow,  especially  where  the  proportion 
of  possible  long  syllables  followed  by  "mute"  e's  is 
large.  This  point  can  hardly  be  too  much  empha- 
sized for  readers  whose  mother  tongue  is  English; 
and  they  should  accustom  themselves  to  yielding 
to  a  deliberateness  of  prosodic  march,  particularly 
in  the  lyrics  of  recent  poets,  which  is  very  dif- 
ferent from  the  previous  conceptions  of  speakers 
of  English,  and  from  the  clipped  enunciation  of 
cabaret  singers  and  reciters  of  popular  verse  in 
France. 

Just  as  in  the  matter  of  stress  accent,  which 
seemed  to  submit  to  no  law  in  the  versification, 
quantity  has  its  influence,  but  its  rule  eludes  our 
attempt  to  formulate  it.  In  the  two  places  where 

•135- 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

stress  is  looked  for  the  line  not  uncommonly  is 
furnished  with  a  prolonged  syllable,  but  not  in  the 
majority  of  instances  probably.  On  the  other  hand, 
long  syllables  appear  which  are  not  the  rhyme  nor 
the  last  unit  before  the  cesura.  Naturally  they  coin- 
cide with  stresses;  but  stressed  syllables  are  not 
always  long.  Like  stress  accents,  long  syllables  and 
syllables  made  long  to  compensate  for  "mute"  e, 
are  invoked  by  the  poets  to  bring  about  that  har- 
mony and  correspondence  between  sense  and  sound, 
which  is  so  admirable,  but  which  no  analysis  can 
teach  us  to  produce.  Voltaire,  who  failed  to  write 
great  poetry  or  even  superior  verse,  knew,  however, 
the  value  of  the  prolonged  syllable  to  the  French 
prosodist.  In  one  of  his  letters  (1761)  he  writes  to 
Tovazzi,  "You  reproach  us  with  our  'mute'  ^  as  a 
sad  and  muffled  sound  that  dies  away  in  our  mouths; 
but  it  is  just  in  these  e's  that  the  great  music  of  our 
prose  and  our  verse  consists:  empire^  couronne^  dia- 
deme,  flamme,  tendresse^  victoire^  all  these  endings 
leave  in  the  ear  a  sound  which  lingers  after  the  word, 
like  a  harpsichord  ringing  after  the  fingers  have  left 
the  keys." 


136 


IX. 
MASCULINE  AND  FEMININE  RHYMES 

The  quotation  which  closed  the  preceding 
chapter  is  one  of  the  best-known  contributions  to 
the  controversy  over  "mute"  £-,  which  has  been  going 
on  since  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century. 
It  is  probable  that  Voltaire  had  in  mind  principally 
the  effect  of  the  vowel  in  those  rhymes  called  femi- 
nine, an  effect  whose  existence  has  been  denied  by 
many  a  critic  of  non-French  origin,  but  which  is 
keenly  felt  by  the  French  themselves.  The  distinc- 
tion between  masculine  and  feminine  rhymes  is  not 
only  still  recognized,  but  there  is  as  much  force  as 
ever  there  was  in  Malherbe's  rule  that  rhymes  of 
the  two  kinds  must  be  used  in  alternation.  As  the 
terms  masculine  and  feminine  have  special  meaning 
in  French  prosody,  let  us  first  explain  them.  Merely 
because  a  final  "mute"  e  is  in  the  majority  of  nouns 
and  adjectives  a  mark  of  the  feminine  gender,  all 
rhymes  having  that  termination  are  known  as  femi- 
nine, regardless  of  the  actual  grammatical  gender  of 
the  words  of  which  they  form  a  part.  Silence,  repete, 
hataille,  prelude,violette,  temple,  a  pre,  are  all  avail- 

•137- 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


able  for  feminine  rhymes ;  while  beaute,  peau^  tantot^ 
du,  art^  viendrait,  are  samples  of  the  masculine.  It 
should  be  easy  now,  after  what  has  been  said  of 
"mute"  e  in  verse,  for  the  reader  to  understand  that 
when  the  final  e  was  distinctly  heard,  as  it  was  by 
Ronsard,  silence  being  ''silenceu'"  and  violette^  ''vio- 
let teu"^  every  line  ending  in  a  feminine  rhyme  must 
have  been  longer  by  one  syllabic  unit  than  any  line 
of  masculine  rhyme  in  the  same  measure.  This 
Alexandrine, 

Dans  la  foule  ou  chacun  en  surgissant  s'efface, 

certainly  gives  thirteen  syllables,  and 

Du  meme  pas  lis  ont  poursuivi  leurs  chemins 

gives  only  twelve.  There  could,  therefore,  at  that 
time  be  no  question  of  the  existence  of  some  differ- 
ence in  sound  between  masculine-rhymed  and  femi- 
nine-rhymed lines.  And  the  same  difference  is  to  be 
noted  in  our  own  day  when  the  feminine  rhyme  is 
due  to  a  "mute"  e  which  happens  to  be  a  supporting 
vowel,  as  in  temple  or  ombre^  in  which  we  have  a 
perfectly  audible  final  ''euT 

Trois  mots  pour  le  peuple  sans  nombre,     (9) 
Qui  tapisse  au  fond  de  son  ombre  (9) 

Ses  ravins,  ses  plaines,  ses  monts.  (8) 

^  See  note,  page  79. 

•138. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

In  the  reading  of  their  own  productions  by  some 
poets,  and  in  that  of  many  declaimers  of  lyrics,  this 
archaic  tendency  exists  and  the  final  e  of  feminine 
rhymes  is  not  infrequently  heard,  brief  but  unmis- 
takable, although  not  a  supporting  vowel.  How- 
ever, this  can  hardly  be  considered  anything  but 
an  exceptional  survival  of  a  tradition,  or  the  out- 
come of  a  musical  conception  of  verse,  such  as 
Koschwitz  shows  in  his  transcription  of  the  read- 
ing of  Sully-Prudhomme  and  Coppee.  But  in  general 
these  final  "mute"  es  have  gradually  disappeared 
from  the  pronunciation,  leaving  their  shadow  in  the 
lengthening  of  a  preceding  syllable,  a  phenomenon 
about  which  much  has  already  been  said  in  these 
pages.  Such  lengthening  probably  could  not  have 
been  the  characteristic  of  feminine  rhymes  which 
caused  the  versifiers  of  Ronsard's  period  to  feel  their 
difference  from  masculine  line  endings,  nor  of  course 
the  characteristic  that  prompted  first  the  practice, 
and  then  the  law,  of  alternating  rhymes  of  different 
genders.  This  prolongation  is  now,  however,  what 
especially  differentiates  the  feminine  from  the  mas- 
culine rhyme,  and  justifies  the  retention  of  the  rule 
of  alternation.  In  the  pronunciation  of  to-day  the 
masculine  rhyme  is  brief,  sharp,  and  terminated 
suddenly.  It  is  usually  a  vowel  sound.  The  feminine 
is  long,  gliding,  and  fades  away.  It  is  commonly  a 
vowel  followed  by  a  consonant  sound. 

•139- 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

The  duty  of  the  reader  of  French  verse  as  regards 
rhyme  is  to  observe  this  modern  distinction  between 
the  sounds  of  so-called  masculine  and  feminine 
rhymes;  and  that  is  his  whole  task.  Assuming  a 
fairly  correct  pronunciation  on  his  part,  nothing 
more  is  demanded  of  him.  But  this  much  is  impera- 
tive; for  the  rhyme  is  not  only  the  greatest  beauty  of 
French  verse,  it  has  become  so  important  to  it  as  to 
lead  many  discriminating  people,  French  as  well  as 
foreign,  to  assert  that  rhyme  is  the  only  indispensa- 
ble feature  of  the  whole  system.  Sainte-Beuve  wrote : 

Rime,  qui  donnes  leurs  sons 

Aux  chansons, 
Rime,  I'unique  harmonic 
Du  vers,  qui  sans  tes  accents 

Fremissants, 
Serait  muet  au  genie. 

The  Classic  poets,  though,  declared  that  the  rhyme 
should  be  "the  slave"  of  the  verse  maker  and  obey 
him.  As  a  matter  of  fact  the  rhyme  never  can  be 
made  strictly  obedient.  The  necessity  of  finding  a 
suitable  word  for  the  end  of  a  particular  line  limits 
the  versifier  materially,  and  very  often  determines, 
in  spite  of  all  his  efforts,  the  turn  of  meaning  his 
composition  will  take.  The  rhyme  word  is  constantly 
a  surprise,  not  only  to  the  reader,  but  to  the  rhymer 
himself.  It  frequently  compels  him  to  introduce  a 
clause  or  even  a  whole  verse,  quite  contrary  to  his 

.  140. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

original  intention,  in  order  that  he  may  arrive  in 
safety,  so  to  speak,  at  his  musical  destination.  Musi- 
cal, we  say,  for  the  rhyme  is  the  closest  bond  between 
pure  music  and  verse,  that  border  region  through 
which  one  passes  from  ordinary  speech  to  song.  The 
imperative  demand  for  a  word  which  shall  fall  at  the 
line's  end,  and  itself  contain  a  predetermined  vowel 
followed  by  a  predetermined  consonant,  can  readily 
be  admitted  to  bring  forth  many  an  unexpected 
clause  or  word.  But  it  is  not  our  intention  to  discuss 
the  role  of  rhyme  in  poetry.  Nothing  that  could  be 
said  on  the  subject  would  apply  more  exactly  to 
French  than  to  our  own  language.  We  know  in 
English  the  power  of  rhymes  in  the  general  tone  or 
color  of  a  poetic  composition.  Some  rhymes  give 
dignity,  and  some  bring  comic  effect;  some  seem 
compelled  by  the  thought,  while  others  are  evidently 
the  result  of  the  versifier's  ingenuity;  others  are 
purposely  fantastic  or  harsh.  Some  are  strength-giv- 
ing, and  some  are  full  of  gentleness.  If  in  French 
rhyme  has  the  same  poetic  office  as  in  English,  it 
performs  its  functions  no  doubt  more  easily,  that  is, 
it  must  be  more  under  the  control  of  the  poet,  be- 
cause in  French  the  great  number  of  terminations 
that  are  identical  in  sound  renders  the  choice  of  the 
right  word  less  difficult  than  in  our  language.  Be- 
sides, it  will  be  noticed  in  reading  French  verse  that 
the  assortment  of  rhymes  from  which  a  selection  can 

.141. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

be  made  is  much  enlarged  by  the  liberty  of  rhyming 
two  forms  that  are  spelled  and  pronounced  alike,  but 
which  are  not  considered  to  be  the  same  word.  Pas, 
meaning  a  step,  rhymes  with  pas,  the  particle  used 
in  expressing  negation:  nue,  naked,  is  coupled  cor- 
rectly with  nue,  the  poetic  word  for  cloud,  le  reste 
is  a  rhyme  for  il  reste. 

With  this  freedom  of  use  the  French  versifiers 
have  been,  and  are  sometimes  now,  fond  of  com- 
plication in  rhyming.  The  reader  has  no  reason  to 
pay  special  attention  to  any  aspect  of  such  juggling; 
and  we  leave  him  to  investigate  for  himself,  if  he 
cares  to  do  so,  rime  double,  rime  equivoque,  rime 
brisee,  ri?ne  couronnee,  rime  grammaticale,  rime  en 
echo,  with  other  forms  of  rhyme,  many  of  which 
have  not  survived  the  Middle  Ages.  Our  attention 
must  go  back  to  rhyme  merely  as  a  phenomenon  of 
rhythm,  and  a  component  of  verse. 

Why  could  the  Classic  school  treat  the  rhyme  as  a 
"slave,"  and  yet  Sainte  Beuve,  the  Romantic  critic, 
and  himself  a  poet,  call  it  the  "sole  harmony  of 
verse'"?  Evidently,  allowing  for  a  little  exaggera- 
tion in  each  expression,  because  the  importance  and 
power  of  rhyme  had  enormously  advanced  in  the 
lapse  of  the  centuries,  and  especially  during  the 
development  of  the  Romantic  movement  in  French 
poetry.  The  Classic  poets  were  content  in  general 
with  merely  correct  rhymes,  though  it  must  be  ad- 

.  142. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


mitted  that  there  was  a  vast  difference  in  the  effect  of 
them  whether  handled  by  the  delicate  poet  Racine, 
or  by  Voltaire,  who  was  merely  a  versifying  wit. 
The  Romantic  poets  sought  more  striking  rhymes, 
and,  as  the  years  went  on  after  1830,  resorted  to 
rich  rhyme,  in  which  not  only  the  consonant  follow- 
ing the  rhyming  vowel  is  identical  in  sound,  but 
also  the  consonant  immediately  preceding  it.  The 
late  Romanticists,  commonly  known  as  Parnassians, 
by  whom  the  prosodic  theories  of  the  school  were 
carried  to  extremes,  used  rich  rhyme  in  preference 
to  the  simpler  sort,  ri?7ie  suffisante^  where  only  the 
vowel  and  its  succeeding  consonant  sound,  if  there 
is  one,  are  repeated.  Theodore  de  Banville,  whose 
Fetit  Traite  de  Foesie  Frangaise  (1872)  is  taken 
as  the  official  expression  of  the  prosody  of  the 
period,  reiterates  Sainte  Beuve's  saying  that  rhyme  is 
'T unique  harmonie  des  vers,''  and  asserts  on  his  own 
account  that  no  rhyme  is  rightly  so  named  unless 
it  be  rich.  "Without  the  sustaining  consonant,"  he 
writes,  "no  rhyme,  and  consequently  no  poetry." 
Hugo,  though  favoring  the  rich  rhyme,  never  sought 
it  with  half  the  diligence  used  by  his  less  inspired 
followers;  and  as  one  goes  back  in  the  nineteenth 
century,  through  de  Musset  and  Lamartine,  one 
sees  fewer  instances  of  this  capricious,  hard-to- 
govern  "slave"  of  the  poet,  the  effort  to  obtain 
which   led   the   Parnassians   to   resort   to   so   much 

•H3- 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


padding  and  so  many  meaningless  lines.  It  was,  like 
everything  else  tried  by  the  Romanticists,  merely  an 
expedient  known  to  the  Classic  versifiers,  but  ridden 
to  death  by  a  group  of  men  who  professed  that  they 
had  concentrated  all  poetry  in  the  rhyme.  This 
excess  of  attention  given  to  rhyming  does  not,  how- 
ever, preclude  the  fact  that  in  the  middle  of  the 
nineteenth  century  rhyme  had  actually  become  a 
great  deal  more  important  than  it  had  ever  been 
before  since  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth,  so 
important  that  we  may  say  that  it  has  to  a  great 
degree  usurped  the  function  of  the  line-end  pause, 
and  now  not  only  serves  to  announce  that  pause,  but 
is  itself  the  thing  which  the  ear  expects  when  the 
required  number  of  syllables,  or  their  equivalents, 
have  run  by.  With  the  evolution  in  pronunciation, 
by  which  so  many  "mute"  e's  must  be  represented 
by  rests,  i.e.,  spaces  without  sound,  or  by  the  pro- 
longation of  a  preceding  syllable,  the  number  of 
pauses  in  a  line  considerably  exceeds  that  exacted 
by  the  logical  grouping  of  words.  Besides  this,  the 
freer  cesura,  favored  by  Hugo  and  practically  all 
his  disciples  down  to  the  end  of  the  Parnassians, 
has  rendered  the  verse  in  French  less  regular  in  its 
march  and  has  thereby  concealed  in  great  measure 
the  true  basic  principle,  to  which  we  have  given 
already  too  much  space  to  need  to  devote  more  to 
it  at  this  point.  Pauses  coming  at  unprescribed  places 

.144. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

in  the  line  inevitably  detract  from  the  distinctness 
and  force  of  the  pause  at  the  line  end.  Again,  the 
tendency  to  pronounce  as  diphthongs  ia^  ?>,  io,  iu^ 
iou,  ua^  ue,  uo,  oua^  oui^  etc.,  in  combinations  to 
each  of  which  the  versifier,  following  his  rules,  has 
ascribed  two  syllables,  must  at  least  aid  in  obscur- 
ing the  syllabic  count.  Hence,  while  we  can  never 
abandon  the  theory  of  the  syllabic  basis  of  French 
verse,  it  certainly  appears  as  if,  with  the  change  in 
pronunciation,  there  had  come  an  unconscious  shift- 
ing of  the  basis  from  one  of  pauses  separated  by 
exact  numbers  of  syllables,  to  one  of  rhymes  falling 
at  stated  intervals  of  time,  in  the  determination  of 
which  intervals  the  syllable  acts  like  the  swing  of 
the  pendulum  or  the  tick  of  a  clock  or  metronome. 
The  versifier  still  calculates  in  syllabic  units,  and  the 
reader,  or  reciter,  who  observes  as  he  should  the 
verse  movement,  accepts  the  calculation  by  recog- 
nizing, at  least  mentally,  each  syllable.  But  it  is  the 
rhyme  now  that  seems  to  govern  rather  than  to 
serve,  and  to  be  of  greater  authority  than  the  line- 
end  pause,  which  it  once  only  announced  and  em- 
phasized. The  reader  may  judge  for  himself  how 
necessary  it  is  to  the  rhythm  of  short  lines  to  have 
the  rhymes  firmly  marked  by  the  voice,  when  the 
Romantic  irregularity  of  cesura  appears  to  the 
extent  we  find  in  these  stanzas  from  Hugo's  Chan- 
sons des  Rues  et  des  Bois: 

.145. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Viens,   |   loin  des  catastrophes, 
Meier,   |   sous  nos  berceaux, 
Le  frisson   |   de  tes  strophes 
Au  tremblement  |  des  eaux. 

Viens,  |  I'etang  solitaire 
Est  un  poeme  |  aussi. 
Les  lacs   |   ont  le  mystere, 
Nos  coeurs  ont  |  le  souci. 

Tout  comme  I'hirondelle, 
La  stancje  quelquefois 
Aime  a  mouiller  son  aile 
Dans  la  mar[e  des  bois. 

Not  only  is  the  cesura  here  highly  variable  in  posi- 
tion, but  in  the  last  three  lines  it  falls  twice  in  the 
body  of  a  word  (in  stance  and  mare),  something  of 
which  no  example  has,  so  far,  been  pointed  out  in 
these  pages,  but  which  can  very  properly  occur  when 
"mute"  e  fades  to  silence  and  the  preceding  stressed 
syllable  is  prolonged.  It  will  be  noticed  also  that 
catastrophes  and  strophes,  solitaire  and  mystere, 
aussi  and  souci,  are  rich  rhymes.  Berceaux  and  des 
eaux  are  practically  rich,  if  not  technically  so. 

In  the  quatrains  that  follow,  the  rhythm,  broken 
by  many  sudden  shocks  and  dramatic  jolts,  is  beauti- 
fully restored  and  maintained  by  the  rich  rhymes, 
all  the  rhymes  being  of  that  class,  except  one  pair. 

Je  t'ai  quelque  temps  tenu  la. 
Fuis  ! — Devant  toi,  les  ittndues 

.  146  . 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Que  ton  pied  souvent  viola 
Tremblent,  et  s'ouvrent,  cperdues. 

Redeviens  ton  maitre,  v3.-t-en! 
Cabre-toi,  piaffe,  redep/oz^ 
Tes  farouches  ailes.  Titan, 
Avec  la  fureur  de  la  joie. 

Retourne  aux  pales  profon^^wr^, 
Sois  indomptable,  recommence. 
Vers  I'ideal,  loin  des  \a\deurs, 
Loin  des  hommes,  ta  fuite  immense. 

If  the  endeavor  to  show  the  rhyme  as  master  of 
Romantic  verse,  and  as  tending  in  a  great  degree  to 
lead  to  a  new  rhythm  basis,  has  seemed  to  indicate 
that  rhyme  is  to  be  considered  not  only  indispensable 
to  the  basic  rhythm,  but  capable  of  affording  a 
rhythm  of  its  own,  the  conclusion  is  plain.  Rhyme  is 
never  to  be  ignored  or  hurried  over  in  any  French 
verse;  for  even  in  the  most  rigidly  syllabic  of 
Classic  lines,  where  it  would  appear  almost  super- 
fluous as  contributing  to  the  comprehension  of  the 
measure,  it  adds  a  rhythm  of  its  own  through  a 
musical  effect  inherent  in  its  nature. 

No  one  who  has  thought  about  the  matter  will 
deny  that  several  rhythms  may  exist  together.  How 
many,  it  would  be  presumptuous  to  try  to  decide  in 
such  a  sketch  as  this;  but  besides  a  principal  series 
in  rhythms  both  visual  and  auditive,  there  are  com- 
monly minor  series  distinctly  recognizable.  So  simple 

•  H7- 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

a  thing  as  a  stretch  of  wall  paper  shows  coexistent 
rhythms,  which  supplement,  but  do  not  conceal,  each 
other.  But  there  is  no  necessity  of  dwelling  on  the 
analogy  between  rhythms  as  seen  and  as  heard. 
Long  ago  reference  was  made  in  these  pages  to  the 
stress  rhythms  which  accompany  the  basic  rhythm 
of  French  verse.  It  has  also  been  seen  that  long 
syllables  may  be  introduced  so  as  to  contrast  with 
short  ones,  and  establish  another  rhythm,  inde- 
pendent but  subordinate,  through  a  certain  regu- 
larity of  occurrence  of  the  long  syllable.  This  regu- 
larity is  greatest  in  the  alternation  of  feminine 
rhymes  with  the  generally  shorter  masculine  termi- 
nations. Yet  it  often  attains  high  rhythmic  effect 
elsewhere,  as  in  lines  like  these  of  Leconte  de  Lisle. 
For  the  guidance  of  the  reader  each  syllable  that  is 
long  by  nature  or  that  becomes  long  to  compensate 
for  the  suppression  of  a  "mute"  e  is  printed  in  bold 
face. 

NOX 

Sur  la  pente  des  monts  les  brises  apaisees 
Inclinent  au  sommeil  les  arbres  onduleux ; 
L'oiseau  silencieux  s'endort  dans  les  rosees, 
Et  I'etoile  a  dore  I'ecunie  des  flots  bleus. 

Au  contour  des  ravins,  sur  les  hauteurs  sauvages, 
Une  molle  vapeur  efface  les  chemins ; 
La  lune  tristement  baigne  les  noirs  feuillages ; 
L'oreille  n'entend  plus  les  murmures  humains. 

.  148. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Mais  sur  le  sable  au  loin  chante  la  met  divine, 
Et  des  hautes  forets  gemit  la  grande  voix, 
Et  I'air  sonore,  aux  cieux  que  la  nuit  illumine, 
Porte  le  chant  des  mers  et  le  soupir  des  bois. 

Montez,  saintes  rumeurs,  paroles  surhumaines, 
Entretien  lent  et  doux  de  la  terre  et  du  ciel ! 
Montez,  et  demandez  aux  etoiles  sereines 
S'il  est  pour  les  atteindre  un  chemin  eternel. 

O  mers,  6  bois  songeurs,  voix  pieuses  du  monde, 
Vous  m'avez  repondu  durant  mes  jours  mauvais, 
Vous  avez  apaise  ma  tristesse  infeconde, 
Et  dans  mon  coeur  aussi  vous  chantez  a  jamais! 

Baudelaire,  perhaps  without  conscious  purpose  in 
his  use  of  long  syllables,  shows  what  can  be  accom- 
plished with  them,  in  this  sonnet. 

LA  MORT  DES  PAUVRES 

C'est  la  Mort  qui  console,  helas !  et  qui  fait  vivre ; 
C'est  le  but  de  la  vie,  et  c'est  le  seul  espoir 
Qui,  comme  un  elixir,  nous  monte  et  nous  enivre, 
Et  nous  donne  le  coeur  de  marcher  jusqu'au  soir; 

A  travers  la  tempete,  et  la  neige,  et  le  givre, 
C'est  la  clarte  vibrante  a  notre  horizon  noir ; 
C'est  I'auberge  fameuse  inscrite  sur  le  livre, 
Oil  Ton  pourra  manger,  et  dormir,  et  s'asseoir ; 

C'est  un  Ange  qui  tient  dans  ses  doigts  magnetiques 
Le  sommeil  et  le  don  des  reves  extatiques, 
Et  qui  refait  le  lit  des  gens  pauvres  et  nus ; 

.149. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

C'est  la  gloire  des  Dieux,  c'est  le  grenier  mystique, 
C'est  la  bourse  du  pauvre  et  sa  patrie  antique, 
C'est  le  portique  ouvert  sur  les  cieux  inconnus ! 

It  should  be  explained  that  the  words,  ?nagne- 
tiques^  extatiques^  fnystique,  and  antique,  in  the 
above,  do  not  in  general  show  length  in  the  vowel  i. 
The  prolongation  of  the  syllables  containing  it  is 
not  very  considerable  here,  and  is  due  to  their  posi- 
tion at  the  line  end,  as  well  as  to  the  nearly  silent 
final  e  and  its  usual  slowing  effect  in  the  feminine 
rhyme.  Perhaps  noir  and  asseoir,  espoir  and  sozr, 
would  not  offer  noticeable  length  if  they  were  not 
placed  just  before  pauses  of  importance.  In  mort^ 
helas,  vivre,  elixir,  monte,  enivre,  tempete,  neige, 
givre,  vibrante,  we  find  syllables  long  by  nature, 
and  susceptible  of  being  made  longer  if  such  treat- 
ment helps  the  effect. 


150. 


X. 

RHYME  DESIGN 

Now  there  enters  the  consideration  of  rhyme 
series  and  of  the  advantage  to  the  reader  of  a  clear 
appreciation  of  their  presence  in  long  successions 
of  lines. 

The  first  rhymes  appearing  in  what  can  be  de- 
nominated French,  as  distinguished  from  late  Latin 
or  the  general  Romance  tongue,  were  vowel  rhymes 
only.  These  are  now  called  assonances:  and  although 
they  exist  yet,  in  such  cases  as  ne  and  bonte^  vola 
and  compta^  non  and  bon^  they  no  longer  satisfy  the 
ear  unless  the  vowel  is  the  final  sound  of  the  line. 
Even  on  that  condition  they  are  not  so  acceptable  as 
when  the  consonants  immediately  preceding  the 
vowel  are  identical.  But  the  older  chansons  de  gestes 
knew  only  assonance,  as  in  this  from  the  S>ong  of 
Roland: 

Quant  Rodlanz  veit  que   bataille  serat, 
Plus  se  fait  fiers  que  lions  ne  iieparz; 
Franceis  escridet,  Olivier  apelat : 
"Sire  compaing,  amis  nel  dire  ja. 
Li  cmperedre  qui  ca  enz  nos  laissat 

.151. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Itels  vint  milie  en  mist  ad  une  part 
Son  escientre  nen  i  out  un  cod^rt. 
Por  son  seignor  deit  om  sofrir  granz  mals, 
Ed  endurer  e  forz  freiz  e  granz  chalz, 
Sin  deit  om  perdre  del  sane  e  de  la  charn. 
Fier  de  ta  lance,  e  jo  de  Durendal, 
Ma  bone  espede  que  li  reis  me  donat ; 
Se  jo  i  muir,  dire  puet  qui  I'avrflt: 
Iceste  espede  fut  a  noble  vassal !" 

The  vowel,  as  seen  above,  is  the  whole  rhyme,  and 
the  continuation  of  the  same  terminal  vowel  sound 
for  so  long  a  time  without  change  seems  to  indicate 
that  the  forerunners  of  modern  French  poets,  and 
their  hearers,  were  not  very  hard  to  please.  Evi- 
dently, also,  they  could  not  have  been  as  sensitive  as 
we  to  the  effect  of  consonants.  As  these  chansons 
were  no  doubt  sung  or  intoned,  with  simple  instru- 
mental accompaniment,  assonances  formed  a  sort 
of  ornament  to  the  verse,  rather  than  a  component 
part  of  it  such  as  rhyme  became  when  it  began  to 
serve  not  only  to  mark  the  measure,  but  also  to 
furnish  a  music  of  its  own.  The  music  of  rhyme, 
though  commonly  mentioned,  is  not  commonly  un- 
derstood. The  expression  passes  among  us  like  a 
multitude  of  other  phrases  which  we  have  never 
investigated,  and  it  probably  seems  well  enough 
fitted  for  naming  a  vague  and  intangible  thing. 
There  is,  however,  perfect  correctness  in  the  term 
and  no  vagueness  in  the  thing  to  which  it  is  applied. 

.  152 . 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


Every  vowel  is  identified  by  something  which  most 
of  us  can  describe  in  an  unscientific  way  as  its  indi- 
vidual pitch.  We  say  that  e  in  scene  is  "sharper" 
than  e  in  there^  that  is,  more  acute  or  higher.  The 
higher  a  note  sounded  on  any  instrument  the  more 
we  are  inclined  to  employ  ''eeeee"  to  imitate  or 
caricature  it.  For  sounds  low  in  the  scale  we  use  o 
and  00.  These  natural  expedients  are  not  resorted  to 
without  reason.  There  really  is  in  every  vowel  of 
human  speech  a  characteristic  note  quite  inde- 
pendent of  the  pitch  of  the  vowel  as  given  it  by  the 
larynx,  whence  its  sound  comes.  If  we  sing  or  say 
rue,  row,  raw,  rah,  ray,  ree,  carefully  keeping  the 
voice  from  changing  pitch  from  start  to  finish,  there 
is  not  only  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  the  six  vowel 
sounds  as  distinct  one  from  another,  but  we  shall 
hear  something  in  ree  which  reminds  us  of  a  note 
much  higher  in  the  musical  scale  than  the  some- 
thing heard  in  rue.  This  is  not  a  mere  impression, 
nor  the  result  of  association  of  ideas ;  there  really  is 
in  ee  a  high  note  added  to  the  fundamental  tone  of 
the  vowel,  and  this  note  has  been  contributed  by  the 
vibration  of  air  in  the  mouth  cavity  of  the  speaker. 
Practically  no  musical  sound  that  we  know  is  simple, 
but  consists  of  a  main  sound  accompanied  by  a  few, 
or  even  many,  others.  Every  instrument  in  the 
orchestra  has  its  peculiar  and  recognizable  quality, 
which  is  due  to  the  number  of  lesser  sounds  that 

•153- 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

mingle  with  its  main  tone  product,  or  to  the  special 
prominence  of  one  or  more  of  them.  Such  important 
but  subordinate  sounds  are  called  "partials,"  and  it 
is  not  necessary  to  enter  here  into  an  explanation  of 
their  causes.  One  very  common  origin  is  the  vibra- 
tion of  air  in  the  hollows  of  the  instrument  produc- 
ing the  sound,  and  for  that  reason  the  size  and  shape 
of  these  cavities,  as  well  as  the  nature  of  the  wood, 
metal,  varnish,  ivory,  etc.,  used  by  instrument 
makers,  have  been  a  study  of  greatest  interest.  Now, 
the  human  speech  apparatus  gets  its  main  tone  from 
a  column  of  air  which  the  larynx  sets  to  vibrating, 
and  we  deliberately  modify  the  size  and  form  of 
the  mouth  cavity,  through  which  the  vibrating  air 
must  pass.  The  "partials"  which  we  thus  are  able 
to  contribute  give  our  tone  the  indefinable  quality 
which  makes  it  an  ^  or  an  c  or  an  a,  quite  apart  from 
that  tone's  musical  pitch  or  its  resonance.  This  is 
not  the  whole  story,  of  course,  but  it  is  enough  of 
it  to  show  that  what  we  hear  in  e  which  differs  from 
what  we  hear  in  o  is  truly  a  note  in  the  scale.  It 
seems  miraculous  that  an  ear  should  be  a  fine  enough 
organism  to  appreciate  the  infinitesimal  differences 
that  make  the  distinction  between  vowels,  yet  we 
need  only  the  slightest  intensity  of  the  sound  to 
know  one  vowel  from  another.  They  are  recogniz- 
able even  when  whispered. 

In  rhymes,  then,  we  have  in  the  identity  of  the 
.154. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

vowels  an  identity  of  musical  notes.  And  there  is, 
moreover,  the  consonant  identity  after  the  vowel, 
or  both  before  and  after  it,  an  identity  of  great 
value,  as  is  plainly  proved  by  the  superiority  of 
rhyme  over  mere  assonance.  This  added  effect  of  the 
rhyme  consonant  is  due  to  something  characteristic 
in  the  consonant  itself,  which  terminates  the  vibra- 
tions of  the  vowel  note,  and  in  rich  rhyme  inaugu- 
rates them  also.  In  reve  and  leve  there  is  the  frica- 
tive quality  of  the  v.  In  meme  and  seme  we  hear  the 
nasal  sound  of  m.  In  simule  and  console  the  so-called 
liquid^  but  in  fact  partly  vowel  note  of  /  turns  into 
the  pure  vowel  e.  Such  accompaniments  of  the  vowel 
tone  are  quite  analogous  to  the  character  of  the 
attack  and  finish  of  the  note,  which  is  peculiar  to 
each  instrument  of  an  orchestra.  Besides  the  quality 
derived  from  the  partials,  or  harmonics,  there  is  the 
blow,  the  snap,  the  buzz,  the  splutter,  which  mark 
unmistakably  the  product  of  a  drum,  a  guitar,  a  bass 
viol,  a  trombone,  and  the  like,  and  which  affect  us 
as  consonants.  These  things  are  truly  the  consonants 
of  music.  They  have  a  part  to  play  in  rhyme,  though 
no  more  important  of  course  in  French  than  in  other 
languages.  Having  referred  to  their  effect,  we  shall 
not  try  to  enter  into  a  discussion  of  the  principles 
underlying  it,  but  must  direct  attention  to  the 
rhythm  pattern  which  can  be  traced  by  rhyme  re- 
currences. And  at  this  point  there  is  no  question  of 

.155. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


stanzas,  but  merely  of  a  continuity  of  verses  of 
uniform  measure  grouped  by  their  rhymes.  The  cele- 
brated Nuit  de  Mai,  by  Alfred  de  Musset,  shows 
a  good  instance  of  what  is  meant.  It  should  not  be 
inspected  and  the  rhyme  arrangement  simply  noted. 
It  must  be  read  aloud,  with  due  emphasis  on  the 
rhymes,  as  well  as  proper  care  as  to  its  thought. 
With  the  guidance  of  some  brackets  on  the  left  of 
the  text,  the  design,  as  compelled  by  the  rhyme 
scheme,  can  be  better  detected.  Notice  how  this  de- 
sign groups  the  verses  so  as  to  make  the  expression 
of  the  thought  complete  in  each  section  and  how 
the  deeper  toned  vowels,  in  Dieu,  douleur,  sanglots, 
eaux,  hideux,  cieux,  horreur,  are  used  to  bring  to  a 
termination  each  division  of  a  great  series  of  lines, 
which,  to  the  eye,  is  indivisible.  Notice,  too,  the 
variety  of  rhyme  arrangement  in  the  different  sec- 
tions. The  musical  effect  is  beautiful,  and  the  larger 
rhythm  constructed  by  rhymes  renders  the  move- 
ment of  a  great  number  of  verses  of  equal  length 
much  more  interesting  than  it  could  be  under  any 
one  system  reiterated.  Compare,  for  instance,  this 
scheme  with  that  of  a  tirade  written  by  Racine  with 
"rimes  plates." 

Crois-tu  done  que  je  sois  comme  le  vent  d'automne, 
Qui  se  nourrit  de  pleurs  jusque  sur  un  tombeau, 
Et  pour  qui  la  douleur  n'est  qu'une  goutte  d'eau? 
O  poete!  un  baiser,  c'est  moi  qui  te  le  donne. 

.156. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

I  L'herbe  que  je  voulais  arracher  de  ce  lieu, 

I  C'est  ton  oisivete ;  ta  douleur  est  a  Dieu. 
Quel  que  soit  le  souci  que  ta  jeunesse  endure, 
Laisse-la  s'elargir,  cette   sainte  blessure 
Que  les  noirs  seraphins  t'ont  faite  au  fond  du  coeur; 
Rien  ne  nous  rend  si  grands  qu'une  grande  douleur. 
Mais,  pour  en  etre  atteint,  ne  crois  pas,  6  poete, 
Que  ta  voix  ici-bas  doive  rester  muette. 
Les  plus  desesperes  sont  les  chants  les  plus  beaux, 

,  Et  j'en  sais  d'immortels  qui  sont  de  purs  sanglots. 
Lorsque  le  pelican,  lasse  d'un  long  voyage, 
Dans  les  brouillards  du  soir  retourne  a  ses  roseaux, 
Ses  petits  affames  courent  sur  le  rivage 
En  le  voyant  au  loin  s'abattre  sur  les  eaux. 
Deja,  croyant  saisir  et  partager  leur  proie, 
lis  courent  a  leur  pere  avec  des  cris  de  joie 
En  secouant  leurs  bees  sur  leurs  goitres  hideux. 
Lui,  gagnant  a  pas  lents  une  roche  elevee, 
De  son  aile  pendante  abritant  sa  couvee, 
Pecheur  melancolique,  il  regarde  les  cieux. 
Le  sang  coule  a  longs  flots  de  sa  poitrine  ouverte ; 
En  vain  il  a  des  mers  fouille  la  profondeur : 
L'Ocean  etait  vide  et  la  plage  deserte ; 

.  Pour  toute  nourriture  il  apporte  son  coeur. 
Sombre  et  silencieux,  etendu  sur  la  pierre, 
Partageant  a  ses  fils  ses  entrailles  de  pere, 
Dans  son  amour  sublime  il  berce  sa  douleur, 
Et,  regardant  couler  sa  sanglante  mamelle, 
Sur  son  festin  de  mort  il  s'affaisse  et  chancelle, 
Ivre  de  volupte,  de  tendresse  et  d'horreur. 

No  long  succession  of  French  verses,  especially  in 
the  Romantic  poetry,  should  be  read  without  some 

.157. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

effort  to  comprehend  rhyme  grouping.  Such  rhythm 
is  accomplished  by  ''rimes  melees"  (mixed  rhymes) 
and  is  of  course  not  common.  In  the  so-called  fixed 
forms,  of  which  the  sonnet  is  probably  best  known, 
everyone  is  familiar  with  the  definite  patterns  traced 
by  the  rhyme.  A  common  French  sonnet  design  is 
this: 

II  faut,  dans  ce  bas  monde,  aimer  beaucoup  de  choses, 
Pour  savoir,  apres  tout,  ce  qu'on  aime  le  mieux: 
Les  bonbons,  I'Ocean,  le  jeu,  I'azur  des  cieux, 
Les  femmes,  les  chevaux,  les  lauriers  et  les  roses. 

II  faut  fouler  aux  pieds  des  fleurs  a  peine  ecloses ; 
II  faut  beaucoup  pleurer,  dire  beaucoup  d'adieux. 
Puis  le  coeur  s'apergoit  qu'il  est  devenu  vieux, 
Et  I'effet  qui  s'en  va  nous  decouvre  les  causes. 

De  ces  biens  passagers  que  Ton  goute  a  demi, 
Le  meilleur  qui  nous  reste  est  un  ancien  ami. 
On  se  brouille,  on  se  fuit. — Qu'un  hasard  nous  rassemble, 

On  s'approche,  on  sourit,  la  main  touche  la  main, 

Et  nous  nous  souvenons  que  nous  marchions  ensemble. 

Que  I'ame  est  immortelle,  et  qu'hier  c'est  demain. 

The  scheme  of  rhymes  is,  abba,  abba,  ccd,  ede. 

Following  the  dictates  of  the  rhyming,  this  series 
of  verses  has  been  printed  in  stanzas;  and  it  is  the 
stanza  which  we  must  now  notice  as  offering  an 
additional  rhythm  in  the  combination  of  rhythms 

.158. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

that  may  characterize  lyric  poetry  in  French.  By 
one  of  their  conventions  writers  of  non-lyric  French 
verse  are  restricted  throughout  a  poem  to  a  single 
kind  of  line  and  to  one  system  of  rhyme  arrange- 
ment. In  the  lyrics,  however,  the  poem  is  cut  up  into 
sections  consisting  of  groups  presenting  certain  dis- 
positions of  meters  and  rhymes.  The  extract  from 
La  Nuit  de  Mai  shows  this  grouping  in  an  irregu- 
lar, if  very  charming  form.  The  sonnet  exemplifies 
a  regularity  that  is  complete,  as  do  also  the  other 
fixed  forms, — rondeau^  ballade^  triolet^  villanelle^ 
and  the  less  usual  models.  Between  these  two  ex- 
tremes is  found  the  great  body  of  French  lyrics  with 
stanzas  or,  to  employ  another  term,  strophes. 

If  the  following  poems  are  read  with  careful  atten- 
tion to  the  rhyme  arrangement,  and  to  the  pauses 
which  are  naturally  induced  by  the  separation  of 
the  sections  as  printed,  it  will  be  seen,  or  rather  felt, 
that  beyond  and  outside  of  all  the  phenomena  of 
rhythm  which  have  been  already  pointed  out  there 
is  a  great  design  stamped  upon  each  poem  as  a 
whole. 

Temps  futurs  !  vision  sublime ! 
Les  peuples  sont  hors  de  I'abime. 
Le  desert  morne  est  traverse. 
Apres  les  sables,  la  pelouse ; 
Et  la  terre  est  comme  une  epouse, 
Et  I'homme  est  comme  un  fiance ! 

.159. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Oh!  voyez!  la  nuit  se  dissipe. 
Sur  le  monde  qui  s'emancipe, 
Oubliant  Cesars  et  Capets, 
Et  sur  les  nations  nubiles, 
S'ouvrent  dans  I'azur,  immobiles, 
Les  vastes  ailes  de  la  paix ! 

O  libre  France  enfin  surgie ! 
O  robe  blanche  apres  I'orgie ! 
O  triomphe  apres  les  douleurs ! 
Le  travail  bruit  dans  les  forges, 
Le  ciel  rit,  et  les  rouges-gorges 
Chantent  dans  I'aubepine  en  fleurs! 

Les  rancunes  sont  effacees ; 

Tous  les  coeurs,  toutes  les  pensees, 

Qu'anime  le  meme  dessin 

Ne  font  plus  qu'un  faisceau  superbe. 

Dieu  prend  pour  lier  cette  gerbe 

La  vieille  corde  du  tocsin. 

Au  fond  des  cieux  un  point  scintille. 
Regardez,  il  grandit,  il  brille, 
II  approche,  enorme  et  vermeil. 
O  Republique  universelle, 
Tu  n'es  encor  que  I'etincelle, 
Demain  tu  seras  le  soleil. 

Hugo. 

Toi  que  j'ai  recueilli  sur  sa  bouche  expirante 
Avec  son  dernier  souffle  et  son  dernier  adieu, 
Symbole  deux  fois  saint,  don  d'une  main  mourante, 
Image  de  mon  Dieu ; 

.  160. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Que  de  pleurs  ont  coule  sur  tes  pieds  que  j 'adore, 
Depuis  I'heure  sacree  ou,  du  sein  d'un  martyr, 
Dans  mes  tremblantes  mains  tu  passas,  tiede  encore 
De  son  dernier  soupir ! 

Les  saints  flambeaux  jetaient  une  derniere  flamme; 
Le  pretre  murmurait  ces  doux  chants  de  la  mort, 
Pareils  aux  chants  plaintifs  que  murmure  une  femme 
A  I'enfant  qui  s'endort. 

De  son  pieux  espoir  son  front  gardait  la  trace, 
Et  sur  ses  traits,  frappes  d'une  auguste  beaute. 
La  douleur  fugitive  avait  empreint  sa  grace. 
La  mort  sa  majeste. 

Lamar  tine. 

Le  ciel  est,  par-dessus  le  toit, 

Si  bleu,  si  calme ! 
Un  arbre,  par-dessus  le  toit, 

Berce  sa  palme. 

La  cloche,  dans  le  ciel  qu'on  voit, 

Doucement  tinte. 
Un  oiseau  sur  I'arbre  qu'on  voit 

Chante  sa  plainte. 

Mon  Dieu,  mon  Dieu,  la  vie  est  la. 

Simple  et  tranquille. 
Cette  paisible  rumeur-la 

Vient  de  la  ville. 

— Qu'as-tu  fait,  6  toi  que  voila 

Pleurant  sans  cesse, 
Dis,  qu'as-tu  fait,  toi  que  voila, 
De  ta  jeunesse*? 

Verlaine. 
.161. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


S'il  est  un  charmant  gazon 

Que  le  ciel  arrose, 
Ou  brille  en  toute  saison 

Quelque  fleur  eclose, 
Ou  Ton  cueille  a  pleine  main 
Lys,  chevrefeuille  et  jasmin, 
J'en  veux  faire  le  chemin 
Ou  ton  pied  se  pose. 

S'il  est  un  sein  bien  aimant 

Dont  rhonneur  dispose, 
Dont  le  ferme  devouement 
N'ait  rien  de  morose. 
Si  toujours  ce  noble  sein 
Bat  pour  un  digne  dessein, 
J'en  veux  faire  le  coussin 
Ou  ton  front  se  pose ! 

S'il  est  un  reve  d'amour 

Parfume  de  rose, 
Ou  Ton  trouve  chaque  jour 
Quelque  douce  chose, 
Un  reve  que  Dieu  benit, 
Ovi  I'ame  a  I'ame  s'unit, 
Oh!  j'en  veux  faire  le  nid 
Oil  ton  cceur  se  pose. 


Hugo. 


Of  course  no  merely  mechanical  division  of  a  poem, 
by  breaking  it  into  parts,  will  produce  true  stanzas. 
There  must  be  some  relation  between  these  sections 
and  the  real  grouping  of  the  poet's  thought.  In  the 
preceding  extracts  this  relation  can  easily  be  de- 

.  162. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH   VERSE 

tected  on  inspection.  But  for  a  reader  who  under- 
stands them  properly  the  relation  is  not  brought 
out  by  any  analysis;  it  is  something  inevitable  and 
inherent. 

We  perceive,  then,  that  to  get  the  full  enjoyment 
of  the  sound  of  a  lyric  we  should  think  of  it  as  a 
great  design  containing  the  small  design  of  which 
so  much  explanation  has  been  given  in  the  pages  of 
this  essay.  The  small  design  is  made  up,  first,  of  the 
line  (with  its  carefully  counted  syllables,  its  pauses, 
its  stress-accents,  and  its  more  or  less  strict  recur- 
rence of  long  syllables)  ;  secondly  in  that  line's  com- 
pletion by  the  pause  and  the  rhyme  (the  first  making 
the  fundamental  formal  division  and  the  second 
linking  in  sound  line  with  line).  The  great  design 
is  one  of  groups.  It  sets  apart  group  from  group  by 
pauses  of  real  import,  and  enables  us  to  feel  the 
beauty  and  completeness  of  each  section,  while  it 
offers  us  the  whole  as  a  supreme  series,  a  rhythm 
of  rhythms.  The  stanzas  are  the  columns  of  a  peri- 
style, each  ornate  and  showing  completeness  of 
pattern.  The  poem  in  strophes  is  the  colonnade  itself, 
the  pillar-rhythm,  of  the  temple  portico  or  cathedral 
aisle. 

If  this  aspect  of  a  poem  in  strophes  were  not  as 
obvious  in  English  as  in  French,  more  might  profit- 
ably be  said  about  it.  There  is,  however,  no  need  to 
insist  upon  it  farther.   Let  the  reader  of  French 

•  163. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

verse  think  of  the  greater  design  as  well  as  of  the 
less,  and  his  pleasure  in  lyrics  will  grow  with  his 
appreciation  of  their  sound  and  sense  forms. 

There  can  be,  in  French,  stanzas  known  as  iso- 
metric, containing  lines  of  but  one  length ;  and  there 
can  be  stanzas  of  lines  made  of  different  numbers  of 
syllables, — heterometric  stanzas.  The  variety  af- 
forded by  change  is  an  additional  source  of  pleasure 
to  the  reader  who  hears  as  he  reads.  In  some  of  the 
longer  lyrics  the  stanza  model  changes  in  the  course 
of  the  poem;  but  here,  again,  we  are  dealing  with 
something  that  is  common  to  all  modern  languages 
in  which  versification  exists,  and  therefore  no  discus- 
sion of  it  is  necessary.  The  origin  and  evolution  of 
the  French  stanza  forms  are  an  interesting  study, 
but  that  study  has  little  bearing  on  our  enjoyment 
of  a  lyric  constructed  of  these  evolved  forms.  For 
the  maker  of  verse  in  French  there  are,  or  rather 
were,  rules  as  to  the  running  of  the  thought  on  from 
one  strophe  to  the  next,  so  as  to  preclude  sometimes 
the  normal  intervening  pause ;  and  for  him  there  was 
once  a  prescription  to  supply  an  opportunity  for  an 
inner  pause,  which  bore  the  relation  to  the  strophe 
that  the  cesura  bears  to  the  line.  And  other  complica- 
tions might  be  mentioned.  The  reader,  however,  can 
be  ignorant  of  all  this,  except  as  logical  punctuation 
forces  it  upon  his  notice.  As  an  example,  a  couple  of 
strophes  from  J.  B.  Rousseau's  Ode  a  la  Fortune 

.  164. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

exhibit  extreme  rigidity  of  arrangement  within  the 
stanzas.  It  is  maintained  with  almost  absolute  pre- 
cision throughout  the  poem,  the  groups  correspond- 
ing to  the  expression  of  the  thought  being  as  invari- 
able as  the  recurrence  of  the  rhymes,  and  giving 
pauses  in  the  same  places  in  each  stanza.  Since  the 
beginning  of  the  Romantic  movement  this  rather 
artificial  regularity  has  disappeared,  and  a  ten-line 
strophe  will  not  offer,  as  these  eighteenth-century 
strophes  do,  an  inevitable  pause  after  the  fourth 
line  and  another  after  the  seventh.  Much  less  will 
shorter  stanzas  now  show  marked  breaks  at  pre- 
scribed points,  for  instance,  after  the  second  line  of 
five,  or  the  third  line  of  six.  The  running  of  the 
thought  over  from  one  strophe  to  the  next  is,  how- 
ever, rare  for  good  reasons. 

Fortune  dont  la  main  couronne 
Les  forfaits  les  plus  inouis, 
Du  faux  eclat  qui  t'environne 
Serons-nous  toujours  eblouis?  || 
Jusques  a  quand,  trompeuse  idole, 
D'un  culte  honteux  et  frivole 
Honorerons-nous  tes  autels*?  || 
Verra-t-on  toujours  tes  caprices 
Consacres  par  les  sacrifices 
Et  par  rhommage  des  mortels  ? 

Apprends  que  la  seule  sagesse 
Peut  faire  les  heros  parfaits, 
Qu'elle  voit  toute  la  bassesse 

.165. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

De  ceux  que  ta  faveur  a  f  aits ;  || 
Qu'elle  n'adopte  point  la  gloire 
Qui  nait  d'une  injuste  victoire 
Que  le  sort  remporte  pour  eux;  || 
Et  que,  devant  ses  yeux  stoiques, 
Leurs  vertus  les  plus  heroiques 
Ne  sont  que  des  crimes  heureux. 


166. 


XI. 
OVERFLOW 

The  mention  of  irregularity  in  the  position 
of  interior  pauses  in  Romantic  strophes,  or  indeed 
the  absence  of  such  pauses,  recalls  the  question  of 
the  varied  place  of  the  Romantic  cesura  and  the 
consequent  relief  from  monotony  produced  by  the 
variation.  To  the  reader  neither  of  these  features  of 
Romantic  verse  needs  present  more  than  slight 
difficulty,  the  rhyme  being  a  dependence  to  preserve 
or  restore  the  rhythm  pattern. 

A  harder  thing  for  the  foreign  reader  of  French 
verse  to  manage  is  what  is  known  as  enjambement^ 
i.e.,  literally,  "striding  over."  This  is  merely  over- 
flow, the  running  of  a  clause  from  one  line  into  the 
next,  which  can  take  place  when  the  end  of  a 
thought  group,  or  the  syntactical  division,  does  not 
coincide  with  the  line  end.  Here  is  a  case: 

C'est  ainsi  qu'achevait  I'aveugle  en  soupirant, 

Et  pres  du  bois  marchait,  faible,  et  sur  une  pierre 

S'asseyait  .    .   . 

In  the  lines  shorter  than  ten  syllables  this  condition 
is  to  be  found  in  French  verse  of  every  period.  In 

.  167  • 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

the  long  lines,  the  ten-syllable  line  and  the  Alexan- 
drine, it  is  not  common  during  the  Classic  centuries, 
and,  when  it  does  occur,  there  is  the  exaction  that 
the  overflow  shall  continue  to  the  end  of  the  second 
line  and  complete  it  by  the  completion  of  the 
thought.  It  is  true  that  in  the  Alexandrine  of  come- 
dies this  rule  was  not  applied.  The  versified  plays 
of  Moliere  are  plentifully  supplied  with  enjambe- 
ment  where  the  natural  expressions  of  ordinary 
people  are  reproduced;  but  in  the  serious  and  lofty 
style  of  men  who  obeyed  Malherbe's  canons  the  use 
of  the  overflow  was  rare,  and  subject  to  the  law  of 
the  completion  of  the  second  line.  Boileau,  writing 
of  the  reform  of  versification  in  his  century,  says, 
"et  le  vers  sur  le  vers  n'osa  plus  enjamber." 

The  Classic  objection  to  the  running  of  one  line 
into  another  was  that  the  rhyme  of  the  former  of  the 
two  lines  was  injured.  The  true  enjafnbement  neces- 
sitates hurrying  over  the  rhyme  word,  so  that  it  can- 
not receive  its  proper  stress,  the  grammatical  con- 
nection of  the  words  making  it  in  general  impossible 
to  bring  due  prominence  to  the  rhyme,  or  to  pause 
after  it.  The  completion  of  the  overflow  at  the  end 
of  the  second  line  helps  matters  a  little,  for  it  pre- 
vents a  considerable  pause  in  the  body  of  the  second 
line,  and  thus  restores  partly  the  prosodic  pattern, 
which  may  have  been  obscured  by  the  disappearance 
of  a  rhyme  and  a  line-end  pause.  In  the  first  two  of 

.168. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

the  following  examples  can  be  seen  the  interrupting 
influence  of  a  short  overflow,  and  in  the  third  the 
reassuring  effect  of  an  overflow  which  extends  to  the 
end  of  the  line  into  which  it  has  intruded. 

Tu  desertais,  victoire,  et  le  sort  etait  las. 
O  Waterloo!  je  pleure  et  je  m'arrete,  helas ! 
Car  ces  derniers  soldats  de  la  derniere  guerre 
Furent  grands;  ils  avaient  vaincu  toute  la  terre, 
Chasse  vingt  rois,  passe  les  Alpes  et  le  Rhin, 
Et  leur  ame  chantait  dans  les  clairons  d'airain ! 


Stupefait  du  desastre  et  ne  sachant  que  croire, 
L'empereur  se  tourna  vers  Dieu ;  rhomme  de  gloire 
Trembla:  Napoleon  comprit  qu'il  exptait 
Quelque  chose  peut-etre;  et,  livide,  inquiet, 
Devant  ses  legions  sur  la  neige  semees : 
— Est-ce  le  chatiment,  dit-il,  Dieu  des  armees? — 


Homme  libre,  toujours  tu  cheriras  la  mer. 

La  mer  est  ton  miroir ;  tu  contemples  ton  ame 

Dans  le  deroulement  infini  de  sa  lame, 

Et  ton  esprit  n'est  pas  un  gouffre  moins  amer. 

Tu  te  plais  a  plonger  au  sein  de  ton  image ; 
Tu  I'embrasses  des  yeux  et  des  bras,  et  ton  coeur 
Se  distrait  quelques  fois  de  sa  propre  rumeur, 
Au  bruit  de  cette  plainte  indomptable  et  sauvage. 

With  the  other  peculiarities  which  the  Classic  versi- 
fiers would  have  called  irregularities,  the  Romantic 

.  169. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

poets  introduced  frequent  enjambement^  so  that  in 
reading  Romantic  verse  we  are  constantly  con- 
fronted by  it,  and  no  small  ingenuity  is  needed  some- 
times in  order  to  maintain  rhythm.  In  fact,  to  one 
who  is  not  French,  and  therefore  not  imbued  with 
the  feeling  for  French  verse  that  comes  by  nature 
and  from  the  learning  of  Classic  models  in  early 
childhood,  the  overflow  in  Victor  Hugo's  poetry  is 
disconcerting.  Hugo  is  the  model  and  the  authority 
for  all  the  use  of  overflow  by  the  nineteenth-century 
versifiers,  and  he  may  be  assumed  to  know  why  he 
has  recourse  to  it.  The  less  skillful  of  the  Parnas- 
sians and  many  poetasters  undoubtedly  fall  into 
en]ambe77ient  because  at  times  it  is  easier  to  use  than 
to  avoid.  Hugo  employs  it  often  for  its  dramatic 
effect.  In  this  passage  from  Hernani,  where  Charles 
V  speaks  to  the  shade  of  Charlemagne,  after  ex- 
pressing at  length  the  awe  which  he  feels  in  facing 
the  responsibilities  and  tasks  lying  before  him  if  he 
is  elected  emperor,  the  summing  up,  "car  je  n'ose  y 
toucher,"  gains  incalculably  from  its  position. 

Ah !  puisque  Dieu,  pour  qui  tout  obstacle  s'efface, 
Prend  nos  deux  majestes  et  les  met  face  a  face, 
Verse-moi  dans  le  coeur,  du  fond  de  ce  tombeau, 
Quelque  chose  de  grand,  de  sublime  et  de  beau ! 
Oh !  par  tous  ses  cotes  fais-moi  voir  toute  chose. 
Montre-moi  que  le  monde  est  petit,  car  je  n'ose 
Y  toucher.  Montre-moi  que  sur  cette  Babel 

•  170. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Qui  du  patre  a  Cesar  va  montant  jusqu'au  ciel, 
Chacun  en  son  degre  se  complait  et  s'admire, 
Voit  I'autre  par-dessous  et  se  retient  d'en  rire. 

Though  the  following  is  not  dramatic  poetry,  it 
is  certainly  highly  dramatic  as  description : 

II  neigeait.  On  etait  vaincu  par  sa  conquete. 
Pour  la  premiere  fois  I'aigle  baissait  la  tete. 
Sombres  jours!  I'empereur  revenait  lentement, 
Laissant  derriere  lui  bruler  Moscou  fumant. 
II  neigeait.  L'apre  hiver  fondait  en  avalanche. 
Apres  la  plaine  blanche  une  autre  plaine  blanche. 
On  ne  connaissait  plus  les  chefs  ni  le  drapeau. 
Hier  la  grande  armee,  et  maintenant  troupeau. 
On  ne  distinguait  plus  les  ailes  ni  le  centre : 
II  neigeait.  Les  blesses  s'abritaient  dans  le  ventre 
Des  chevaux  morts :  au  seuil  des  bivouacs  desoles 
On  voyait  des  clairons  a  leur  poste  geles 
Restes  debout,  en  selle  et  muets,  blancs  de  givre, 
Collant  leur  bouche  en  pierre  aux  trompettes  de  cuivre. 
Boulets,  mitraille,  obus,  meles  aux  flocons  blancs, 
Pleuvaient;  les  grenadiers,  surpris  d'etre  tremblants, 
Marchaient  pensifs,  la  glace  a  leur  moustache  grise. 
II  neigeait,  il  neigeait  toujours!  la  froide  bise 
Sifflait;  sur  le  verglas,  dans  des  lieux  inconnus, 
On  n'avalt  pas  de  pain  et  Ton  allait  pieds  nus. 

In  these  verses,  which  are  the  opening  lines  of 
r Expiation^  it  is  more  difficult  to  indicate  just 
what  Hugo  accomplishes  by  the  overflow,  and  the 
abruptness   which   he  brings   to  his   aid   in   the   11 

.171. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


neigeait.  .  .  .  Sombres  jours!  .  .  .  II  neigeait.  .  .  .  II 
neigeait.  .  .  .  Pleuvaient.  .  .  .  Sifflait.  The  reader 
can  feel  the  effect  better  than  we  can  describe  it. 
The  twenty  lines  contain  three  cases  of  true  over- 
flow, and  six  of  something  almost  as  hostile  to  the 
rhythm. 

If  we  leave  out  of  account  for  a  moment  the 
rhythmic  design  of  these  extracts,  nothing  can  be 
more  desirable  than  the  dramatic  effects  procured  by 
the  suspended  construction  with  its  abrupt  climax. 
The  temporary  eclipse  of  rhythm  in  such  cases  can- 
not be  regretted,  for  after  all  poetry  has  first  claim, 
and  rhythm  is  poetry's  servitor.  Hugo  has  been  more 
daring  in  enjambement  than  anyone  else  worthy  to 
be  mentioned  with  him,  and  his  boldness  is  justified 
by  his  power  to  regain  at  once  his  firm  and  convinc- 
ing rhythm.  No  French  verse-maker  has  stronger 
buttresses  of  stress  and  quantity  and  rhyme  than  he. 
If  he  chooses  to  shatter  rhythm  we  have  seen  how  he 
instantly  rebuilds  it. 

But  it  is  not  always  for  dramatic  purposes  that 
he  makes  an  overflow.  Not  rarely  he  and  his  school 
aim  by  this  expedient  to  give  relief  to  the  ear.  How- 
ever pleasing  a  fairly  regular  design  in  verse  may  be, 
it  seems  to  be  productive  of  more  satisfaction  if  it 
is  temporarily  suspended  now  and  then.  The  restora- 
tion of  its  plan  is  reassuring,  and  it  can  run  on  again 
for  a  considerable  time  without  giving  an  effect  of 

.172. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

monotony.  The  reader  will  sometimes  be  able  to 
conceal  in  part  this  break  in  the  rhythm,  if  he  yields 
a  trifle  to  the  influence  of  the  verse  pattern.  The 
rhyme  word  to  which  the  particular  case  of  enjambe- 
ment  denies  a  full  stress  can  generally  be  emphasized 
somewhat,  and  a  pause  after  it  can  be  at  least  sug- 
gested. The  completion  of  the  overflow  in  the  second 
line  may  be  marked  by  a  pause  hardly  longer  than 
an  ordinary  cesura.  Such  tricks  might  be  hardly 
fair  to  the  sense  of  the  passage,  but  intelligence  and 
taste  must  be  counted  upon  to  prevent  too  great 
violence  being  done  to  the  meaning.  There  is  always 
a  certain  danger  to  sense  and  common  punctuation  in 
rhythmic  expression;  yet  the  ear  does  not,  as  a  rule, 
warn  against  slight  falsification  of  this  kind. 

Qu'importe !  Ici  tout  berce,  et  rassure  et  caresse. 
Plus  d'ombre  dans  le  coeur  I  plus  de  soucis  amers ! 
Une  ineffable  paix  monte  et  descend  sans  cesse 
Du  bleu  profond  de  I'ame  au  bleu  profond  des  mers. 

In  the  stanza  above,  a  prose  utterance  of  the  third 
and  fourth  lines  would  not  ordinarily  give  a  pause 
after  the  word  cesse^  which  does  not  complete  any- 
thing. But  if  we  are  thoroughly  impressed  by  the 
rhythm  we  can  yield  to  its  influence,  and,  by  treating 
sans  cesse  as  if  it  were  a  short  parenthesis,  get  enough 
time  between  the  lines  and  enough  stress  on  cesse  to 
keep  the  pattern  approximately  intact. 

•173- 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

When  de  Musset  wrote, 

Qu'  as  tu  fait  pour  mourir,  6  noble  creature. 
Belle  image  de  Dieu,  qui  donnais  en  chemin 
Au  riche  un  peu  de  joie,  au  malheureux  du  pain"? 

he  made  a  sentence  which  overflows;  but  the  sense 
of  the  last  line  offers  us  the  possibility  of  keeping 
the  rhythm.  There  is  a  contrast  to  be  brought  out 
between  au  riche  and  au  malheureux^  and  this  can 
best  be  shown  by  adding  to  the  effect  of  the  em- 
phasis placed  on  those  words  the  effect  of  a  pause 
before  them. 

.    .    .   Dieu,  qui  donnais  en  chemin — 

Au  riche  un  peu  de  joie, — au  malheureux  du  pain. 

Such  cases  are  easy  to  handle,  but  there  are  others 
which  do  not  offer  a  chance  for  evasion  of  the  strict 
construction  of  the  overflowing  sentence.  For  in- 
stance, it  would  be  difficult  to  justify  a  pause  after 
the  fifth  line  of  the  following  stanza,  except  by 
saying  that  the  rhythmic  pattern  almost  forces  the 
reader  to  make  one.  Probably  most  readers  would 
not  really  pause  after  that  line,  but  would  imagine 
that  they  had  done  so,  or  would  feel,  at  the  end  of 
the  sixth  line,  that  the  rhythm,  slightly  disturbed  at 
farouche^  was  pleasingly  restored  by  se  couche. 

— Desormais  tu  n'es  plus,  6  matiere  vivante ! 
Qu'un  granit  entoure  d'une  vague  epouvante, 
Assoupi  dans  le  fond  d'un  Saharah  brumeux ! 

.174. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Un  vieux  sphinx  ignore  du  monde  insoucieux, 
Oublie  sur  la  carte,  et  dont  I'humeur  farouche 
Ne  chante  qu'aux  rayons  du  soleil  qui  se  couche ! 

Since  the  earlier  stanzas  of  this  poem  are  im- 
peccable in  rhyme,  in  stress,  and  in  pause,  the 
slight  irregularity  produced  by  this  enjambement 
is  felt  to  be  a  relief,  and  the  poem  in  ending 
leaves  a  sense  of  variety  rather  than  monotony. 
Where  the  overflow  is  of  a  clearly  uncompromis- 
ing character,  and  in  addition  terminates  in  the 
body  of  a  line,  there  results  an  effect  of  abruptness, 
as  well  as  an  obliteration  of  a  rhyme.  Nothing  can 
be  done  then  in  palliation.  We  must  accept  a  sus- 
pension of  the  rhythmic  formula,  and  find  its  re- 
establishment  as  soon  as  possible  in  the  succeeding 
verses.  Very  often  we  are  not  called  upon  to  pardon 
the  lapse.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  grateful  to  our  ears. 
Everyone  knows  the  value  of  an  imperfect  rhyme 
in  adding  to  the  sweetness  of  true  rhymes  that 
follow.  It  is  the  dissonance  of  verse;  and  overflow  is 
very  like  tempo  rubato.  After  it  the  exact  spacing  of 
the  beats  regains  all  the  charm  of  newness  in  design. 
An  occasional  enjmnbement  is  permissible  in  any 
versifier,  and  may  even  be  counted  to  his  credit  if 
he  has  plainly  made  use  of  it  for  rhetorical  or 
rhythmic  enhancement.  Too  frequent  instances  of  it, 
however,  are  not  tolerable,  and  no  reader  should 
expect  to  manage  such  a  specimen  as  Albert  Gla- 

.175. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

tigny's  Ballade  des  Enfants  Sans  Souci  with  much 
pleasure  derived  from  the  rhythm.  It  is  hardly  estab- 
lished before  the  poet  dislocates  it.  In  fact,  he  begins 
by  dislocating  his  conceived  rhythm,  and  the  eye 
has  to  do  in  the  first  few  lines,  and  frequently  after- 
ward, in  this  poem,  what  the  ear  cannot.  It  is  only 
from  the  well-known  form  in  which  the  stanzas  are 
built,  with  the  same  rhymes  in  exactly  the  same 
arrangement,  i.e.^  because  we  recognize  the  reiter- 
ated stanza  structure  of  a  ballade^  that  we  obtain 
here  much  rhythmic  satisfaction.  In  other  words,  the 
strict  rhyme  scheme,  of  -^r,  -ee^  and  -?,  over  and 
over  again,  keeps  together  what  the  numerous  cases 
of  overflow  tend  to  scatter.  Yet,  without  some  relief, 
is  not  this  form  a  terribly  monotonous  one  to  modern 
ears'?  Let  us  praise  Glatigny  for  his  ingenuity,  and 
let  us  read  his  ballade  with  just  a  little  more  than 
natural  stress  on  the  rhymes.  By  that  expedient, 
and  the  aid  of  the  emphatic  Merci  of  the  envoi,  we 
reach  the  familiar  last  word,  souci,  and  end  with  a 
sense  of  having  maintained  a  true  rhythm. 

lis  vont  pieds  nus  le  plus  souvent.  L'hiver 
Met  a  leurs  doigts  des  mitaines  d'onglee. 
Le  soir,  helas !  lis  soupent  du  grand  air, 
Et  sur  leur  front  la  bise  echevelee 
Gronde,  pareille  au  bruit  d'une  melee. 
A  peine  un  peu  leur  sort  est  adouci 
Quand  avril  fuit  la  terre  consolee. 
Ayez  pitie  des  Enfants  sans  souci. 

.  176. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


lis  n'ont  sur  eux  que  le  manteau  du  ver, 
Quand  les  frissons  de  la  voute  etoilee 
Font  tressaillir  et  briller  leur  ceil  clair. 
Par  la  montagne  abrupte  et  la  vallee, 
lis  vont,  ils  vont !  A  leur  troupe  affolee 
Chacun  repond :  " Vous  n'etes  pas  d'ici, 
Prenez  ailleurs,  oiseaux,  votre  volee." 
Ayez  pitie  des  Enfants  sans  souci. 

Un  froid  de  mort  fait  dans  leur  pauvre  chair 
Glacer  le  sang,  et  leur  veine  est  gelee. 
Les  coeurs  pour  eux  se  cuirassent  de  fer. 
Le  trepas  vient.  Ils  vont  sans  mausolee 
Pourrir  au  coin  d'un  champ  ou  d'une  allee, 
Et  les  corbeaux  mangent  leur  corps  transi 
Que  lavera  la  froide  giboulee. 
Ayez  pitie  des  Enfants  sans  souci. 

ENVOI 

Pour  cette  vie  effroyable,  filee 
De  mal,  de  peine,  ils  te  disent :  Merci ! 
Muse,  comme  eux,  avec  eux,  exilee. 
Ayez  pitie  des  Enfants  sans  souci! 

A  great  master  of  the  music  of  verse  might  not  need 
the  rigidity  of  a  "fixed  form"  to  redeem  the  more 
or  less  frequent  overflow  of  lines.  Verlaine,  in  the 
fragment  below,  succeeds  in  creating  a  rhythm  in 
spite  of  enjambement,  neglected  "mute"  ^,  varied 
position  of  the  cesura,  and  total  disregard  of  the 
disposition  of  long  syllables.  He  merely  rhymes  and 

.177. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

observes,  visually  at  any  rate,  the  syllable  count. 
Nothing  with  twelve  syllables  could  be  farther  from 
the  Classic  Alexandrine  in  sound,  yet  these  are 
Alexandrines: 

"Telles,  quand  des  brebis  sortent  d'un  clos.  C'est  une, 
Puis  deux,  puis  trois.  Le  teste  est  la,  les  yeux  baisses. 
La  tete  a  terre,  et  I'air  des  plus  embarrasses, 
Faisant  ce  que  fait  leur  chef  de  file :  il  s'arrete, 
Elles  s'arretent  tour  a  tour,  posant  leur  tete 
Sur  son  dos  simplement  et  sans  savoir  pourquoi." 
Votre  pasteur,  6  mes  brebis,  ce  n'est  pas  moi, 
C'est  un  meilleur,  un  bien  meilleur,  qui  sait  les  causes, 
Lui  qui  vous  tint  longtemps  et  si  longtemps  la  closes, 
Mais  qui  vous  delivra  de  sa  main  au  temps  vrai. 
Suivez-le.  Sa  houlette  est  bonne. 

Et  je  serai. 
Sous  sa  voix  toujours  douce  a  votre  ennui  qui  bele, 
Je  serai,  moi,  par  vos  chemins,  son  chien  fidele. 

From  an  English-speaking  reader  it  requires  con- 
siderable effort  and  a  very  firm  grasp  of  the  funda- 
mental structure  of  French  verse  in  order  that  he 
may  feel  the  regularity  of  design  in  this  extract,  in 
the  face  of  all  its  irregularities.  Only  a  knowledge 
of  all  that  has  been  written  in  previous  pages  con- 
cerning the  development  of  the  Classic  model,  the 
feminine  rhyme,  the  management  of  "mute"  ^,  etc., 
enables  us  to  connect  such  a  production  with  the 
prosody  of  Racine.  Really,  when  we  take  into 
account  the  long  drift  of  French  pronunciation  from 

.178. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


Racine  to  Verlaine,  it  becomes  absurd  to  maintain 
that  these  lines  truly  comprise  twelve  syllables  each, 
or,  if  they  do,  that  they  have  the  other  characteristics 
of  the  old  Alexandrine.  For  a  Frenchman,  as  well 
as  for  ourselves,  it  is  easier  to  say  that  such  pleasure 
as  can  be  gotten  from  reading  or  hearing  them  is 
due  to  a  new  music,  the  poet's  own,  not  the  music  of 
the  Classic  versification.  Hence  it  became  the  fashion 
in  the  last  two  decades  of  the  nineteenth  century 
to  declare  that  a  new  prosody  had  come  into  exist- 
ence, that  syllable  count  was  immaterial,  that 
stresses  and  cesuras  were  not  subject  to  rules,  even 
that  rhymes  were  not  indispensable.  The  one  thing 
required  was  that  the  author  of  the  so-called  Vers 
Libre  should  have  admirers  who  shared  his  opinion 
as  to  the  beauty  of  his  product.  In  the  nature  of 
things,  such  compositions  could  not  be  measured 
by  any  common  standard.  The  movement  was  in  its 
essence  prosodic  individualism,  if  indeed  it  can  be 
termed  prosodic  at  all.  Verlaine  was  unwittingly  a 
pathfinder.  Now,  Verlaine  was  not  a  vers-Ubriste; 
but  his  disregard  of  so  many  details  of  the  old  versi- 
fication, and  his  success  in  combining  a  harmony  of 
words  and  ideas,  led  a  crowd  of  literary  people  to 
believe  that,  by  carrying  the  process  farther,  French 
poetry  could  acquire  an  atmosphere  and  a  vagueness 
in  suggestion,  which  it  had  certainly  lacked  in  all 
its  course  before. 

•  179- 


XII. 
VERS  LIBRE 

If  due  allowance  be  made  for  the  extrava- 
gances of  the  writers  of  the  Vers  Libre,  there  can  be 
found  much  to  recommend  in  the  innovation.  Of 
course,  the  mere  rejection  of  capital  letters  at  the 
beginning  of  the  lines,  like  the  refusal  to  divide  the 
so-called  poem  in  a  manner  at  all  different  from 
that  characteristic  of  prose,  is  nothing  but  a  detail 
interesting  to  a  printing  office.  No  principle  under- 
lies such  action,  unless  it  be  the  principle  which  is 
said  to  have  led  Scotch  Covenanters  to  stand  in 
prayer, — because  Catholics  knelt.  Young  enthusiasts 
will  often  mistake  contradiction  for  originality. 
Other  peculiarities  in  Vers  Libre,  however,  have  a 
better  excuse. 

The  elimination  of  rhyme,  in  imitation  of  Eng- 
lish blank  verse,  may  have  been  an  honest  effort.  It 
has  not  succeeded;  the  vers-libristes  rhyme,  although 
they  are  far  from  being  in  agreement  with  one  an- 
other as  to  the  exact  importance  or  prominence  of 
rhyme.  Some  of  them  are  very  inaccurate  from  the 
viewpoint  of  Classic  rhyming,  making  plurals  and 

.  180. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

singulars  match,  and  pairing  words  ending  in 
"mute"  e  with  words  prosodically  masculine.  As  for 
observing  the  rule  about  alternation  of  masculine 
and  feminine  rhymes,  few  of  them  think  of  that. 
When  it  comes  to  counting  syllables,  no  uniformity 
can  be  found  in  the  practice  of  these  writers.  It  is 
labor  lost  to  try  to  ascertain  whether  two  contiguous 
lines  that  seem  to  have  the  same  length  have  truly 
the  same  measurement  either  in  number  of  syllables, 
in  number  of  stress  accents,  or  in  time  required  for 
their  utterance.  Occasionally  the  basis  of  rhythm 
seems  to  be,  as  in  English,  chiefly  related  to  the 
recurrence  of  stressed  syllables.  Sometimes  the  ar- 
rangement of  long  and  short  vowels  appears  to  be 
the  vital  thing.  Hiatus  may  be  in  evidence  very 
often,  and  the  cesura  can  be  anywhere  or  nowhere. 

Now  this  chaos  did  not  proceed  from  one  and  the 
same  impulse.  A  rather  long  story  could  be  written 
about  its  evolution  if  we  were  theorizing  instead  of 
trying  to  show  how  enjoyment  can  be  gotten  even 
from  the  Vers  Libre.  Two  things,  however,  have 
plainly  conspired  to  make  this  individualistic  system 
possible, — one  being  the  change  in  French  pronun- 
ciation, the  other  Verlaine's  accomplishment  and 
method,  in  other  words,  his  charm  and  success. 

It  was  the  contention  of  some  foreigners  who  read 
or  wrote  French  verse  that  the  French  did  not  pro- 
nounce as  they  themselves  supposed  they  did,  and 

.181. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

that  therefore  the  rules  commonly  observed  did  not 
deserve  observance.  The  question  was  a  delicate  one 
for  any  to  discuss  but  Frenchmen  born  and  bred; 
and  in  some  fine  distinctions  of  sound  the  foreign 
critics  were  plainly  wrong.  But  there  were  natives 
who  realized  that  in  some  particulars  this  criticism 
was  correct.  At  any  rate,  the  vers-Ubriste  did  not 
desire  to  be  hampered  in  his  expression  by  Mal- 
herbe's  prescriptions.  The  hiatus  he  found  so  com- 
mon in  his  prose  speech  that  he  saw  no  reason  for 
avoiding  it  in  his  verse.  If  we  admit  creature  or  le 
heros  or  tuas^  why  should  we  exclude  tu  as  or  lui  est? 
Evidently,  if  the  versifier  is  cautious  in  the  use  of 
this  dangerous  thing,  he  can  very  well  introduce  it. 
Again,  there  are  certainly  some  feminine  rhymes 
which  have  no  longer  a  special  quality  that  prevents 
their  being  used  to  match  syllables  that  do  not  end 
in  "mute"  e.  Endure  and  dur  are  rhymes.  So  are 
murmure  and  mur^  or  even  murs^  for  the  s  of  plurals 
does  not  affect  anything  before  it  when  there  is  no 
liaison  formed.  The  prohibition  of  rhyme  between 
mur  and  murs^  and  the  so-called  poetic  license  that 
made  je  voi  replace  je  vois  if  it  was  to  rhyme  with 
c' est  toi  or  convoi,  were  in  1885  nothing  but  rules  for 
the  eye,  whatever  might  have  been  their  raison  d'etre 
nearly  three  centuries  earlier.  It  certainly  was  once 
true  that  the  j-  marking  the  plural  number  length- 
ened to  an  appreciable  degree  the  vowel  immediately 

.  182. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

preceding,  therefore  such  words  as  pretendu  and 
entendus  were  not  then  perfectly  rhymed.  But  few 
Frenchmen  in  the  nineteenth  century  so  much  as 
knew  that  such  had  ever  been  the  case.  Long  after 
this  distinction  had  passed  away,  and  after  final 
"mute"  e  directly  following  any  vowel,  as  in  lue  or 
citee^  had  ceased  to  have  a  separate  syllabic  sound, 
the  French  maintained,  especially  in  the  provinces, 
that  the  presence  of  the  "mute"  vowel  lengthened 
the  other.  But  if  in  the  latter  half  of  the  last  century 
lue  did  not  rhyme  with  valu^  or  citee  with  cite^  it 
was  not  because  Parisian  ears  could  detect  the  slight- 
est variation  in  either  length  or  quality  in  the  pairs 
of  syllables  quoted.  Inspection  of  M.  Fassy's  tran- 
scriptions will  prove  that  he  recognizes  no  diver- 
gence in  sound  in  such  cases.  As  for  the  alternation 
of  masculine  and  feminine  rhymes,  the  obligation 
to  make  it  with  unvarying  regularity  was  deemed  a 
fetter,  and  while  no  writer  of  Vers  Libre  has  disre- 
garded the  potence  of  change  in  rhyme  gender,  none 
feels  that  there  is  anything  but  gain  in  using  one 
class  of  ending  as  long  as  he  pleases. 

The  following  fairly  characteristic,  yet  not  ex- 
treme specimens  of  the  new  freedom  in  verse  will 
show  what  liberties  are  taken  with  the  rules.  In  the 
first  it  cannot  be  said  that  the  syllable  count  is  at  all 
abnormal.  Nor  is  the  use  of  a  seven-syllable  line 
alternating  with  one  of  six  syllables  a  violation  of 

.183. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

any  rule.  It  is  unusual  in  French  versification,  how- 
ever, and  is  due  to  Verlaine's  recommendation  to 
favor  an  odd  number.  The  alternation  of  masculine 
and  feminine  rhymes  is  not  present.  In  fact,  there 
is  apparently  premeditation  in  the  employment  of 
eight  feminine  rhymes  in  succession,  in  the  second 
and  third  stanzas,  with  four  masculine  in  each  of  the 
first  and  fourth. 

Des  fleurs  du  soir  plein  tes  mains, 
Tous  les  cieux  dans  tes  yeux, 
Et  I'espoir  des  lendemains 
Dans  tes  yeux  et  les  cieux, 

Tu  vins  par  la  plaine  jaune, 
En  ce  froid  mois  d'automne, 
O  la  donneuse  d'aumone 
Dont  le  pauvre  s'etonne  .  .   . 

On  dit  que  sur  la  montagne 
Tombe  deja  la  neige, 
Mais  qu'importe  a  qui  regagne 
L'atre  ou  le  feu  s'abrege? 

Ce  sera  bientot  pour  nous 
Baisers  et  bon  sommeil, 
Mienne,  et  dans  nos  bras  jaloux 
L'oubli  du  vieux  soleil. 

Stuart  Merrill. 

If  these  four  stanzas  are  read  in  a  natural  way  they 
will  be  found  very  pleasing.  The  reader  can  decide 

.  184. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

for  himself  how  their  stresses  and  long  syllables  are 
arranged.  One  thing  should  be  pointed  out  perhaps, 
that  is,  the  curious  way  in  which  the  poet  violates 
the  rule  of  alternation  and  yet  obeys  the  principle 
that  underlies  it.  Mains  and  lendemains  have  all  the 
abruptness  and  finality  of  true  masculines,  while 
yeux  and  cieux^  though  masculine  also,  afford  con- 
trast by  having  the  length  and  gradual  cessation  of 
sound  which  feminines  afford  in  the  pronunciation 
of  to-day.  Jaune  and  aumone  are  true  feminines 
with  all  the  quality  of  that  rhyme  gender;  but 
automne  (pronounced  otonn)  and  s'etonne  are 
sharply  terminated  in  the  present  pronunciation, 
and  show  no  effect  of  an  e  final.  Montague  and 
regagne  practically  require  the  sound  of  final  "mute" 
^  as  a  supporting  vowel,  and  therefore  produce  some- 
thing like  the  extra  syllable  in  the  verse,  which  was 
originally  the  office  of  a  feminine  rhyme.  On  the 
other  hand,  neige  and  s'ahrege  are  true  enough  femi- 
nines, but  feminines  of  the  modern  kind,  slow,  pro- 
longed, and  adding  nothing  syllabic  to  the  line.  In 
the  last  quatrain  nous  and  jaloux  contrast  in  their 
brevity  with  the  long  e  and  semi-vowel  of  the  ending 
of  sommeil  and  ^o/^?/,  though  these  are  technically 
masculine. 

If  all  Vers  Libre  used  its  liberty  as  sanely  as  this 
sample,  not  even  Malherbe  would  be  able  to  deny 
its  claims.  But  what  would  he  say  to  this  production 

.185. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

by  Gustave  Kahn,  the  earliest  exponent  of  the  inno- 
vation in  all  its  freedom*? 

In  the  following  the  lines  seem  intended  to  con- 
tain, some  eleven,  and  some  nine  syllables.  If, 
though,  the  strictly  Classic  method  be  applied  the 
count  will  not  be  found  exact.  And  the  rhymes  do 
not  alternate  properly.  Some  of  them  are  mere 
repetitions  of  the  same  word,  and  others  are  not 
obedient  to  old  distinctions,  although  they  are  cer- 
tainly good  in  everyday  utterance.  For  instance, 
fringants,  verity  and  levants  would  not  have  been 
admissible  before  this  movement  came  to  assert  that 
they  ought  to  be  admitted.  Epanouie^  ouie^  and  rouis 
are  as  incorrectly  mated. 

However,  there  is  music  in  the  whole  poem  of 
seven  strophes,  and  many  readers  have  felt  its 
appeal. 

File  a  ton  rouet,  file  a  ton  rouet,  file  et  pleurc, 
Ou  dors  au  moutier  de  tes  indifferences, 
Ou  marche  somnambule  aux  nuits  des  recurrences ; 
Seule  a  ton  rouet,  seule,  file  et  pleure. 

Sur  la  route,  les  cavaliers  fringants 
Poussent  les  chevaux  envoles  dans  le  vent, 
Souriants  et  chanteurs  s'en  vont,  vers  les  levants 
Sur  la  route  ensoleillee,  les  cavaliers  fringants. 

File  a  ton  rouet,  seule  a  ton  rouet,  file,  et  pleure. 
Seule  a  ton  rouet,  file,  crains,  pleure. 

.186. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Et  celui  dont  la  tendresse  epanouie 
Souffre  aux  nerfs,  aux  soucis,  a  I'ouie, 
Celui-la  s'en  ira  pour  consoler  ses  doutes 
Aux  refuges  semes  le  long  des  apres  routes; 
Suspends  aux  greniers  les  chanvres  rouis. 

File  a  ton  rouet,  les  chansons  sont  legeres, 
Les  images  redisent  les  gloires  des  marins, 
Les  chansons  s'evident  aux  heures  plus  legeres, 
Proches  du  retour  sonore  des  marins. 

Et  voici,  las  des  autans  et  des  automnes 

Au  ciel  noir  des  flots  qui  tonnent, 

Le  voici  passer  qui  vient  du  fond  des  ages, 

Noir  et  brun  et  si  triste :  et  les  lents  marecages 

De  ses  yeux  ovi  demeurent  stagnantes  les  douleurs 

S'arreteront  epars  sur  tes  yeux  de  douleurs. 

Seule  a  ton  rouet,  file  et  pleure. 

Tes  candeurs  nubiles  s'en  iraient  au  gouffre, 

Au  gouffre  I'ame  du  passe  qui  souffre 

Depuis  les  temps,  les  temps,  les  leurres  et  les  leurres. 

File  a  ton  rouet,  seule,  file  et  pleure. 

Gustave  Kahn. 

Unfortunately  we  cannot  give  any  general  directions 
for  reading  such  verse.  Its  very  programme  pre- 
cludes such  a  thing  as  a  generality. 

The  one  principle  underlying  the  work  of  the 
vers-libriste  is  that  the  new  poetry,  mostly  5ym- 
bolisme^  of  course,  must  have  free  expression,  and 
that  regularity  of  verse  form  compels  the  adaptation 

.187. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

of  the  thought  to  the  form.  If  the  form  is  truly  fixed 
it  is  antecedent  to  the  matter  seeking  to  fit  into  it. 
If,  as  the  vers-libristes  did,  we  take  their  manifesta- 
tion as  aimed  against  the  Parnassians  we  can  easily 
share  their  idea.  The  Parnassians  struggled  for 
Classic  impersonality;  and  their  rich  and  astonishing 
rhyme  led  often  to  virtuosity,  and  little  more.  There 
is  a  famous  pair  of  lines  by  Alphonse  Allais,  which 
show  what  nonsense  can  result  from  fantastic  per- 
fection. Here  is  not  only  rich  rhyme;  but  syllable 
before  syllable,  as  we  trace  the  verses  back,  falls  into 
the  rhyme,  till  there  is  nothing  but  rhyme. 

Par  le  bois  du  Djinn,  ou  s'entasse  de  I'effroi, 
Parle,  bois  du  gin  ou  cent  tasses  de  lait  froid. 

This  of  course  is  not  serious,  but  it  has  served  to 
prove,  at  least  to  lovers  of  Vers  Libre^  to  what  depths 
a  versifier  can  descend.  These  admirers  of  the  "re- 
generated" French  verse  never  contended  that  the 
greater  Parnassians  were  not  great;  they  admitted 
their  claims  and  praised  their  success  in  triumphing 
over  a  prosodic  system  that  offered  such  unjustifiable 
difficulties.  Whether  the  writers  of  Vers  Libre  are 
not  themselves  hampered  by  the  necessity  they  labor 
under, — to  depart  in  one  or  several  particulars  from 
the  accepted  rules  of  versification, — is  a  fair  ques- 
tion. Probably  their  best  results  are  obtained  when 
they  come  nearest  to  a  Classic  or  Romantic  standard, 

.188. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

merely  permitting  their  lines  or  their  rhymes  to 
enjoy  a  little  latitude  and  elasticity.  In  Kahn's  poem 
just  quoted  there  is  a  strange  beauty  in  the  sort  of 
refrain,  Seule  a  ton  rouet^  file  et  pleure^  with  its 
variations,  which  gives,  as  a  song  might  give,  the 
sadness  of  a  woman's  lot  in  an  age  or  a  land  of 
adventure  for  men.  The  power  of  seule,  file,  pleure 
in  their  use  here  is  wonderful,  but  it  is  to  genius  or 
chance  that  Kahn  owes  it.  A  formula  for  such  an 
effect  can  hardly  be  made.  The  rest  of  the  poem  is 
a  vague  and  incomplete  picture  of  typical  abandon- 
ments, and  for  a  reader  who  can  be  content  with 
impressions  in  place  of  ideas,  the  sound  of  the  lines 
makes  up  for  their  indefiniteness  and  is  full  of 
beauty.  Yet  it  is  not  unreasonable  to  assert  that  the 
rhythmic  balance  of  the  composition  is  not  left  to 
chance,  but  is  maintained  by  occasional  good  ten- 
syllable  verses  like, 

Et  celui  dont  la  tendresse  epanouie, 
or  good  Alexandrines  like, 

Les  chansons  s'evident  aux  heures  plus  legeres, 
and 

S'arreteront  epars  sur  tes  yeux  de  douleurs. 

In  reading  such  verse  one  must  learn  to  detect  the 
rhythm,  or  perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  say  the 

.  189. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

"movement"  of  a  line,  at  first  sight,  and  be  ready 
to  accept  another  immediately,  in  case  a  change  is 
made.  The  variation  of  movement  is  to  be  looked 
for  more  frequently  in  Vers  Libre  than  in  normal 
French  verse,  and  the  reader  is  asked  to  feel  the 
appeal  of  a  design  which  lasts  perhaps  no  longer 
than  the  duration  of  the  line  which  inaugurates  it. 
He  is  required  to  pass  from  rhythm  to  rhythm,  as 
indeed  he  must  do  in  regular  verse,  but  without  the 
steadying  influence  of  syllable  basis.  For  this  stabi- 
lizing, rhyme  is  the  most  obvious  dependence.  A 
little  care  in  reading  will  usually  enable  us  to  make 
the  rhymes  effective,  by  emphasizing  them  and  spac- 
ing them  as  we  conceive  that  it  was  the  intention  of 
the  versifier  to  have  us  do.  If  we  read  a  poem  in 
Vers  Libre  twice,  the  second  reading  will  generally 
give  us  a  conception  of  some  broad  scheme.  The 
rhyming  is  almost  always  correct,  judged  by  ordi- 
nary pronunciation  in  Paris.  For  one  instance,  which 
was  hinted  at  a  few  pages  back,  as  e  final  after  a 
vowel  is  no  longer  of  any  value  whatever  in  culti- 
vated French,  Kahn's  rhyme  with  Vouie  and  rouis  is 
perfect  to  the  ear.  The  s  denoting  a  plural  form  has, 
also,  no  sound  where  there  is  no  liaison,  so  there  can 
be  no  real  offense  as  rhymes  in  automnes  and  cton- 
nent  when  heard. 

As  to  the  spacing  of  rhymes  with  a  necessary 
minimum  of  regularity,  we  have  already  seen  that 

.  190. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


the  Classic  measure  of  pronounced  syllables  from 
rhyme  to  rhyme  is  no  longer  to  be  depended  upon. 
The  latest  verses  on  a  strictly  Classic  model,  and  the 
real  Classic  verses  of  the  seventeenth  century  when 
pronounced  in  nineteenth-century  style,  are  really 
variable  in  the  number  of  their  syllables.  This  has 
already  been  sufficiently  shown  in  our  remarks  on 
the  management  of  "mute"  e,  the  development  of 
diphthongs  whose  first  vowel  is  U  u  or  ou,  and  the 
lengthening  of  syllables  in  certain  positions.  In  the 
manner  of  reading  in  vogue  to-day,  many  an  Alex- 
andrine practically  has  no  more  than  nine  syllables; 
others  have  ten.  Owing  to  the  presence  of  at  least  one 
literally  "mute"  e  in  nearly  every  line  a  very  great 
number  of  Alexandrines  are  of  eleven  syllables  only. 
Occasionally,  if  the  last  word  in  a  verse  ends  in  e 
as  a  supporting  vowel,  there  can  be  thirteen  syllables 
instead  of  the  typical  twelve.  And  similar  conditions 
are  common  in  the  ten-syllable  and  shorter  lines. 
How  many  syllables  are  really  to  be  heard  in  this 
Alexandrine  of  de  Musset's? 

N'etait-ce  pas  hier,  pale  Desdemona? 

(Ces  pleurs  sur  tes  bras  nus,  quand  tu  chantais  le  Saule, 

N'etait-ce  pas  hier,  pale  Desdemona?) 

or  in  this  by  Chenier"? 

Et  moi,  comme  lui  belle,  et  jeune  comme  lui, 
.191. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Are  there  truly  ten  syllables  audible  in 

Fier  de  nourrir  I'espoir  qu'il  a  degu? 

And  in  this  stanza  of  eight-syllable  verses,  which 
ones  lack  a  full  counts 

Le  soir  ramene  le  silence. 
Assis  sur  ces  rochers  deserts, 
Je  suis  dans  le  vague  des  airs 
Le  char  de  la  nuit  qui  s'avance. 

{Ramene  and  vague  make  up  by  length  for  loss  of 
final  e.) 

Can  one  read  this  Alexandrine  without  coming 
pretty  near  uttering  thirteen  syllables'? 

Mais  tout  est  precipice.  lis  ont  eu  droit  de  vivre. 

Or  this*? 

L'un  y  voit  son  vieux  pere  assis  au  coin  de  I'atre. 

As  French  verse  has  gradually  adapted  itself  to 
such  substitutions  of  pauses  and  such  compensations 
in  time  for  actual  syllables,  the  way  has  been  pre- 
pared for  a  disregard  of  the  precise  number  of  sylla- 
bles prescribed.  In  Kahn's  File  a  ton  Rouet^  there- 
fore, it  matters  little  in  the  general  scheme  of 
the  poem  if  lines  of  nine,  ten,  eleven,  and  twelve 
syllables  are  mingled  together  seemingly  without 
distinction.  After  all,  Kahn  is  not  so  very  far  from 

.  192 . 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

the  practice  of  the  Romantic  poets,  though  he  does 
not  claim  to  have  any  normal  line  length.  He  merely 
allows  his  reader  to  find  for  himself  a  kind  of 
average  time  from  rhyme  to  rhyme,  and,  having 
found  it,  to  accommodate  to  that  average  as  many 
lines  as  possible.  By  a  certain  amount  of  patient 
repetition  of  this  poem,  with  attention  given  to  long 
syllables  and  pauses,  on  the  one  hand,  and  the 
elision,  as  well  as  the  natural  suppression  of  many 
a  "mute"  e,  on  the  other,  the  equalizing  of  line 
lengths  will  come  near  being  accomplished.  If  we 
take  the  beginning  of  the  fourth  stanza  as  an  ex- 
ample, 

Et  celui  dont  la  tendresse  epanouie 
Souffre  aux  nerfs,  aux  soucis,  a  I'ouie, 

the  first  line  contains  ten  syllables,  each  of  which, 
with  the  exception  of  the  second  of  tendresse,  is 
short.  The  following  line  has  nine  syllables;  but  with 
souffre  possibly  long,  and  tierfs  unquestionably  so, 
and  two  important  pauses  indicated  by  the  commas, 
this  line  may  take  as  much  time  in  utterance  as  the 
first.  Moreover,  each  of  the  two  lines  bears  three 
stresses  at  approximately  identical  places. 

Et  ctlui  dont  la  ttndresse  epanouz^ 
Souffre  aux  nerfs,  aux  scum,  a  I'ouie. 

Surely,  for  one  who  has  an  ear  for  anything  but 
syllable  count  there  is  regularity  enough  here. 

•193- 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

It  is  not  intended  that  such  equality  of  line  length 
shall  always  be  produced  by  the  reader.  Sometimes 
the  versifier  plainly  changes  length.  Very  often  he 
deliberately  avails  himself  of  the  freedom  expressed 
by  the  term  Vers  Libre ^  and  scorns  regularity.  What 
has  been  suggested  as  to  the  feasibility  of  making 
something  regular  out  of  this  prosodic  madness  is 
only  to  help  discover  some  method  in  it,  and  to  aid 
the  reader  in  an  effort  to  like  it. 

Camille  Mauclair,  whose  poem,  Les  Mains  Lentes 
sous  la  Lampe,  is  given  below,  has  told  the  world 
that  he  intended  only  "to  make  a  little  music"  and 
that  to  him  "verse  forms  were  indifferent."  Yet 
he  seems  to  have  observed,  while  not  planning  to 
observe  them,  some  essentials  of  regularity.  It  would 
be  time  lost  to  argue  the  question  whether  the  fol- 
lowing lines  are  intended  to  contain  seven  or  eight 
syllables  each.  A  little  ingenuity  could  make  them 
all  seven  syllables  or  all  eight;  but  that  matter  is 
really  as  indifferent  to  the  reader  as  the  author  said 
it  was  to  him.  The  lines  are  practically  even  in 
length,  though  long  syllables  make  some  slower  in 
movement  than  others.  In  the  first  stanza  lampe  and 
guirlandes  form  an  assonance,  not  a  rhyme.  Else- 
where, however,  the  rhymes  are  perfect  in  sound, 
if  not  quite  right  to  the  eye;  and  it  is  curious  to  find 
that  the  effect  of  alternate  masculines  and  feminines 
is  obtained.  Lampe  and  guirlandes  have  the  feminine 

.194. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

quality,  and  contrast  with  reflets  and  regrets.  The 
second  and  third  stanzas  follow  prescription  of 
Classic  times  as  to  alternation,  and  the  fourth  is  just 
as  regular,  though  destine es  is  forced  to  do  duty  as 
a  masculine  rhyme,  with  volonte^  a  thing  it  is  per- 
fectly fit  for,  owing  to  its  present  pronunciation  as 
if  it  were  destine. 

Les  mains  lentes  sous  la  lampe 
Jouant  avec  les  reflets 
Tressent  d'invisibles  guirlandes 
De  songeries  et  de  regrets. 

La  dentelle  des  brodeuses 
Enlace  leurs  ames  aussi, 
Et  denoue  une  trame  heureuse 
En  fleurettes  de  souci. 

Vers  une  fenetre  endormie 
Sous  la  lune  du  clair  jardin, 
Voltigent  les  calines  mains 
Sous  la  lampe  epanouie, 

Et  leur  fragile  volonte 
Croise  d'un  jeu  soudain  tragique 
Le  fil  d'anciennes  destinees 
Sur  leurs  ongles  ironiques. 

So  far,  our  quotations  and  comments  have  had  the 
purpose  of  demonstrating  the  reasonableness  of  some 
Vers  Libre.,  and  therefore  the  ease  and  satisfaction 

.195. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


with  which  it  can  be  read  by  persons  familiar  with 
strict  verse  form.  Once  admitted,  however,  the  new 
freedom  became  extreme,  and  passed  into  something 
for  which  such  an  utterance  as  this  by  Viele-Griffin 
prepares  us.  In  his  preface  to  Jo2es,  published  in 
1889,  he  writes:  "Verse  is  free,  which  does  not  mean 
in  the  least  that  the  old  Alexandrine  is  abolished  or 
established,  but,  more  broadly,  that  no  unchange- 
able design  is  any  longer  considered  the  mould  nec- 
essary to  the  expression  of  poetic  thought.  It  means 
that  henceforth  the  poet  will  obey  his  personal 
rhythm,  which  he  ought  to  obey,  without  M.  de 
Banville,  or  any  other  'law-giver  of  Parnassus,'  hav- 
ing the  right  to  intervene." 

Such  declarations  of  prosodic  independence  could 
be  introduced  here  in  very  great  number  if  it  were 
worth  while  to  present  what  simply  repeats  the 
notion  contained  in  the  words  "personal  rhythm." 

The  logical  effect  of  this  divorce  from  the  old 
versification  can  be  seen,  and  better  heard,  in  a 
composition  by  Henri  de  Regnier,  who,  let  it  be  said, 
can  produce  the  most  beautiful  and  regular  of  regu- 
lar verse  when  he  will. 

Si  j'ai  parle 

De  mon  amour,  c'est  a  I'eau  lente 

Qui  m'ecoute  quand  je  penche 

Sur  elle;  si  j'ai  parle 

De  mon  amour,  c'est  au  vent 

.  196. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


Qui  rit  et  chuchote  entre  les  branches ; 

Si  j'ai  parle  de  mon  amour,  c'est  a  I'oiseau 

Qui  passe  et  chante 

Avec  le  vent; 

Si  j'ai  parle 

C'est  a  I'echo. 

Si  j'ai  aime  de  grand  amour, 

Triste  ou  joyeux, 

Ce  sont  tes  yeux ; 

Si  j'ai  aime  de  grand  amour, 

Ce  fut  ta  bouche  grave  et  douce, 

Ce  fut  ta  bouche  ; 

Si  j'ai  aime  de  grand  amour, 

Ce  furent  ta  chair  tiede  et  tes  mains  fraiches, 

Et  c'est  ton  ombre  que  je  cherche. 

It  seems  hardly  wise  to  say  of  this  Odelette^  as 
it  is  entitled,  more  than  that  if  de  Regnier  has  suc- 
ceeded in  making  the  reader  like  the  rhythm,  the 
personal  rhythm  of  it,  then  two  people  at  least  are 
agreed.  There  is,  though  little  enough,  some  plan 
in  the  sounds  of  the  words  in  this  very  slight  bit  of 
thought.  The  repetition  of  parle  acts  as  a  rhyme; 
lente  and  penche  make  an  assonance;  vent  is  in 
unison  with  vent;  oiseau  and  echo  are  rhyming.  In 
the  second  half  there  is  one  good  rhyme;  amour  ends 
three  lines;  douce  and  bouche^  fraiches  and  cherche^ 
are  assonances.  The  short  lines  have  each  four  sylla- 
bles; the  longer  lines, — but  what  matters  it,  after 
all?  This  is  Vers  Libre. 

.197. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

So  is  Sur  le  Banc  Vert^  by  Henri  Bataille : 

Sur  le  banc  vert  ou  dort  la  pluie, 

C'est  la  que  va  s'asseoir  ma  peine, 

Vers  le  nnilieu  de  la  nuit  .    .    . 

Seule,  sans  son  maitre,  quand  nous  dormons, 

Elle  sort  de  la  maison, 

Et  ce  n'est  pas  moi  qui  la  mene  .    .    . 

Nous  la-haut,  nous  revons,  en  bruines  paisibles  .   .   . 

Alors  elle  s'assied  sur  le  banc  de  rouille 

Delassee,  et  le  plus  commodement  possible. 

Elle  ne  sent  presque  pas  que  la  pluie  la  mouille, 

Ma  peine,  ma  bonne  peine,  ma  vieille  peine. 

This  is  less  than  half  the  "poem,"  but  the  second 
part  does  not  make  any  clearer  the  meter  or  the 
rhyme, — or  indeed  the  reason,  if  there  is  meter, 
rhyme,  or  reason  in  it. 

Like  other  so-called  acquired  tastes  the  liking  for 
French  Vers  Libre  will  grow  if  persistently  culti- 
vated. Little  by  little  the  mind  trained  to  look  for 
clearness,  logic,  and  eloquence,  not  to  say  declama- 
tion, in  French  poetry  becomes  reconciled  to  vague- 
ness, impressionism,  atmosphere,  color,  melancholy, 
and  morbidity.  The  ear  at  the  same  time  excuses 
departure  from  the  long  respected  prosodic  system, 
and  learns  to  seek  and  recognize  "new  harmonies" 
in  rhyme,  alliteration,  repetition,  assonance,  ingen- 
ious combinations  of  consonants,  and  harpings  upon 
a  single  vowel  sound.  However,  the  freedom  of  the 
form  seems  to  have  resulted  in  very  little  gain  to 

.  198. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

the  matter  embodied  in  it;  though  the  plea  for  this 
liberty  was  its  emancipation  of  the  poet's  thought 
from  the  chain  forged  by  Malherbe  and  Boileau. 
With  some  exceptions,  this  "thought,"  when  ex- 
pressed in  Vers  Libre,  resembles  closely  the  very 
pleasant,  but  by  no  means  logically  arranged  train 
which  passes  before  the  mental  eye  of  a  person  fall- 
ing slowly  to  sleep.  To  begin  with  out-and-out  Vers 
Libre  is  a  dangerous  proceeding,  if  one  wishes  to  get 
a  taste  for  it.  A  better  plan  is  to  take  specimens 
whose  form  is  as  regular  as  may  be  found,  and  to 
progress  towards  the  goal  by  degrees.  There  is  such 
a  sample  at  hand  in  Stuart  Merrill's  Nocturne. 
It  is  in  Alexandrines,  perfectly  orthodox  as  to  sylla- 
ble count,  but  strangely  and  ingeniously  slow  in 
pace.  Many  lines  are  without  cesuras.  Alliteration, 
which  heightens  always  the  particular  mood  in 
which  it  is  employed,  is  in  evidence  everywhere. 
There  is  a  sort  of  play  with  the  vowels  that  defies 
analysis,  but  which  is  fascinatingly  like  a  melody 
as  we  follow  it  along  through  the  characteristic 
"upper  partials." 

La  bleme  lune  allume  en  la  mare  qui  luit, 
Miroir  des  gloires  d'or,  un  emoi  d'incendie. 
Tout  dort,  Seul  a  mi-mort,  un  rossignol  de  nuit 
Module  en  mal  d'amour  sa  molle  melodie. 

Plus  ne  vibrent  les  vents  en  le  mystere  vert 
Des  ramures.  La  lune  a  tu  leurs  voix  nocturnes : 

.199. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Mais  a  travers  le  deuil  du  feuillage  entr'ouvert 
Pleuvent  les  bleus  baisers  des  astres  taciturnes. 

La  vieille  volupte  de  rever  a  la  mort 

A  I'entour  de  la  mare  endort  I'ame  des  choses. 

A  peine  la  foret  parfois  fait-elle  effort 

Sous  le  frisson  furtif  de  ses  metamorphoses. 

Chaque  feuille  s'efface  en  des  brouillards  subtils, 
Du  zenith  de  I'azur  ruisselle  la  rosee 
Dont  le  cristal  s'incruste  en  perles  aux  pistils 
Des  nenuphars  flottant  sur  I'eau  fleurdelysee. 

Rien  n'emane  du  noir,  ni  vol,  ni  vent,  ni  voix, 
Sauf  lorsqu'  au  loin  des  bois,  par  soudaines  saccades, 
Un  ruisseau  turbulent  roule  sur  les  gravois: 
L'echo  s'emeut  alors  de  I'eclat  des  cascades. 

It  would  seem,  especially  as  the  stressed  syllables 
in  the  foregoing  are  quite  normally  arranged,  that 
here  is  something  easy  to  read,  and  a  very  good 
example  of  the  beauties  of  the  Vers  Libre  when 
scorning  to  avail  itself  of  all  its  liberty.  The  whole 
regularity  of  the  Classic  verse,  so  faithfully  ob- 
served, does  not  result  in  the  exclusion  of  what  the 
new  freedom  claims  to  have  alone  admitted. 

In  the  Serenade^  by  Adolphe  Rette,  there  is  a 
less  strict  adherence  to  rule,  and  a  very  different 
movement  produced  by  the  unexpected  introduction 
of  a  line  of  three  syllables  here  and  there  among 
the  lines  of  seven.  There  are  some  assonances,  like 
calme   and   naiades^    and   an   erratic   grouping   of 

.200- 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 


rhymes.  The  first  rhymes  are  masculine,  roseaux^ 
oiseau;  and  then  there  are  seventeen  lines  before  we 
find  another  of  that  character,  namely,  sureau.  The 
intervening  lines  show  two  instances  of  assonance, 
soupirent^  palpite^  limpides^  and  f raises,  tresse,  mar- 
jolaine.  One  line  ends  with  muses,  for  which  no 
rhyme  nor  assonance  is  to  be  found.  Some  allitera- 
tions can  be  heard,  and  the  long  nasal  ending  -ante 
is  employed  with  effect  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
poem. 

Belle  la  lune  est  si  calme : 

Pris  au  levres  des  naiades, 

Le  soir  dort  dans  les  roseaux 

Et  pas  meme  un  oiseau 
Ne  se  leve. — 

Vois  languir  au  long  des  greves 
L'eau  qui  reve. 

Les  noirs  marronniers  soupirent 

Ou  palpite 
L'or  des  etoiles  limpides, 
Les  cascades  murmurantes, 
Les  vagues  chuchoteuses 

Sous  les  yeuses 
Vers  la  lune  se  lamentent. 
Entends  cette  voix  charmante : 

L'eau  qui  chante. 

Viens,  je  sais  le  val  des  fraises, 

Je  te  tresse 
Un  lien  de  marjolaines  .   .   . 

•  201  • 


CONCERNING   FRENCH  VERSE 

Tu  te  detournes,  tu  muses 

Aux  bouquets  blancs  des  sureaux! 

Je  detache  ta  ceinture 

Et  je  cueille  ton  sanglot. — 

L'eau  lascive  au  loin  s'argente, 
L'eau  qui  reve,  l'eau  qui  chante, 
L'eau  qui  fuit  sous  les  roseaux. 

Perhaps  it  would  require  a  keener  appreciation  of 
French  sounds  than  most  English  readers  can  ac- 
quire, in  order  to  enjoy  fully  the  music  of  these 
stanzas;  but  even  an  elementary  ability  to  detect 
their  long  vowels  and  their  stresses  will  make  them 
more  than  merely  pretty.  They  are  truly  beautiful. 
Something  with  more  meaning,  and  an  appro- 
priately rugged  form,  is  to  be  read  in  Verhaeren's 
Les  Horloges.  In  spite  of  their  variable  syllable 
length,  the  following  lines  can  very  easily  be  made 
to  seem  sufficiently  even;  and  the  strict  alternation 
of  masculine  and  feminine  rhymes  helps  the  reader 
to  make  some  approach  to  regularity  with  what  is 
truly  Vers  Libre.  Verhaeren  in  his  unmistakable  and 
strong  stress  is  not  unlike  an  Englishman  or  a  Ger- 
man, and  therefore  his  verse,  however  "lihre^'''  is  not 
as  "foreign"  to  us  as  that  of  most  of  his  school. 

La  nuit,  dans  le  silence  en  noir  de  nos  demeures, 
Bequilles  et  batons  qui  se  cognent,  la-bas; 
Montant  et  devalant  les  escaliers  des  heures, 
Les  horloges,  avec  leurs  pas ; 

•  202  . 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Emaux  naifs  derriere  un  verre,  emblemes 
Et  fleurs  d'antan,  chiff res  maigres  et  vieux ; 
Lunes  des  corridors  vides  et  blemes, 
Les  horloges,  avec  leurs  yeux ; 

Sons  morts,  notes  de  plomb,  marteaux  et  limes, 
Boutique  en  bois  de  mots  sournois, 
Et  le  babil  des  secondes  minimes, 
Les  horloges,  avec  leurs  voix ; 

Gaines  de  chenes  et  homes  d'omhre, 
Cercueils  scelles  dans  le  mur  froid, 
Vieux  OS  du  temps  que  grignote  le  nombre, 
Les  horloges  et  leur  effroi ; 

Les  horloges 

Volontaires  et  vigilantes, 

Pareilles  aux  vieilles  servantes 

Boitant  de  leurs  sabots  ou  glissant  sur  leurs  has, 

Les  horloges  que  j'interroge 

Serrent  ma  peur  en  leur  compas. 

Verhaeren  does  not,  with  very  rare  exceptions, 
reach  a  degree  of  irregularity  in  his  verse  greater 
than  that  in  the  bit  just  given.  He  is  an  excellent 
poet  for  an  English-speaking  reader  to  use  while 
trying  to  master  the  peculiarities  of  Vers  Libre.  His 
rhymes  are  obvious,  and  it  is  easy  to  detect  his 
intentions  as  to  rhythm,  because  his  stressed  syllables 
are  so  unmistakable. 

One  of  the  few  comprehensible  pieces  of  Maurice 
Maeterlinck's  earlier  "versification"  is  just  as  plain 

.203. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

in  its  indication  of  the  stresses ;  in  fact,  it  seems  very 
like  English  accentual  verse,  and,  though  not  fully- 
rhymed,  reads  with  much  the  same  effect  as  many  a 
song  of  our  own. 

CHANSON 

Et  s'il   revenait  un  jour 
Que  faut-il  lui  dire? 

—  Dites-lui  qu'on  I'attendit 
Jusqu'a  s'en  mourir  .    .   . 

Et  s'il  m'interroge  encore 
Sans  me  reconnaitre? 

—  Parlez-lui  comme  une  soeur, 
II  souffre  peut-etre   .    .    . 

Et  s'il  demande  oii  vous  etes, 
Que  faut  il  repondre? 

—  Donnez-lui  mon  anneau  d'or 
Sans  rien  lui  repondre  .    .    . 

Et  s'il  veut  savoir  pourquoi 
La  salle  est  deserte? 

—  Montrez-lui  la  lampe  eteinte 
Et  la  porte  ouverte  .   .   . 

Et  s'il  m'interroge  alors 
Sur  la  derniere  heure? 

—  Dites-lui  que  j'ai  souri, 
De  peur  qu'il  ne  pleure. 

The  syllabic  count  of  these  lines  is  evidently  seven 
and  five  in  alternation,  but  quite  as  clearly  there  is 

.204. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

no  intention  that  this  fact  should  be  as  prominent 
in  the  rhythm  as  the  arrangement  of  stresses  and 
long  syllables. 

One  more  specimen  may  be  introduced,  merely 
to  show  how  far  a  maker  of  Vers  Libre  has  been  will- 
ing to  go  in  the  direction  of  prose.  It  is  not  as  far 
as  our  writers  go  to-day  in  much  that  passes  for 
poetry  in  England  and  America.  But,  even  if  we 
believe  that  the  French  led  the  way  to  our  present 
disregard  of  technique,  whereby  every  man  can  be 
his  own  poet,  they  never  seriously  acted  as  if  they 
believed  verse  to  be  nothing  but  bad  prose.  The 
French  have  always  been  bold  as  innovators;  but 
their  sense  of  artistic  form  and  their  natural  equi- 
librium have  prevented  their  running  beyond  cer- 
tain bounds,  except  perhaps  in  experiment. 

There  is  in  what  follows  the  very  slightest  possi- 
bility of  finding  verse.  It  appears  that  it  would  have 
to  be  broken  up  into  different  lines  in  order  to  make 
of  it  properly  sounding  prose,  that  is,  prose  with  a 
prose  rhythm.  Such  beauty  as  the  extract  may  have 
it  presents  to  the  eye  and  not  to  the  ear. 

LE  VASE 

Mon  marteau  lourd   sonnait  dans  I'air  leger, 
Je  voyais  la  riviere  et  le  verger, 
La  prairie  et  jusques  au  bois, 
Sous  le  ciel  bleu  d'heure  en  heure, 
Puis  rose  et  mauve  au  crepuscule. 

•  205  . 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Alors  je  me  levais  tout  droit 
Et  m'etirais  heureux  de  la  tache  des  heures, 
Gourd  de  m'etre  accroupi  de  I'aube  au  crepuscule 
Devant  le  bloc  de  marbre  ou  je  taillis  les  pans 
Du  vase  fruste  encor  que  mon  marteau  pesant, 
Rythmant  le  matin  clair  et  la  bonne  journee, 
Heurtait,  joyeux  d'etre  sonore  en  I'air  leger! 

Le  vase  naissait  dans  la  pierre  fagonnee, 

Svelte  et  pur  il  avait  grandi 

Informe  encore  en  sa  sveltesse, 

Et  j'attendis, 

Les  mains  oisives  et  inquietes. 

Pendant  des  jours,  tournant  la  tete 

A  gauche,  a  droite,  au  moindre  bruit, 

Sans  plus  polir  la  pause  ou  lever  le  marteau. 

L'eau 

Coulait  de  la  fontaine  comme  haletante. 

Dans  le  silence 

J'entendais,  un  a  un,  aux  arbres  du  verger, 

Les  fruits  tomber  de  branche  en  branche ; 

Je  respirais  un  parfum  messager 

De  fleurs  lointaines  sur  le  vent; 

Souvent 

Je  croyais  qu'on  avait  parle  bas, 

Et,  un  jour  que  je  revais  —  ne  dormant  pas  — 

J'entendis  par  dela  les  pres  et  la  riviere 

Chanter  des  flutes  .    .    . 

The  quotation  is  not  the  complete  poem;  but 
nothing  would  have  been  made  clearer  by  the  print- 
ing of  two  pages  of  the   same   formlessness,    De 

.206. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

Regnier,  its  author,  evidently  grew  tired  of  his  own 
liberty  while  waiting  for  a  scene  to  carve  on  his  vase, 
for  he  fell  back,  some  forty  lines  from  the  end,  into 
fine  Alexandrines.  It  will  be  seen  that  these  are  Vers 
Libre  only  in  their  disregard  of  some  immaterial 
technicalities,  and  in  the  neglect  of  alternation  of 
masculine  and  feminine  rhymes. 

Alors  le  verger  vaste  et  le  bols  et  la  plaine 

Tressaillirent  d'un  bruit  etrange,  et  la  fontaine 

Coula  plus  vive  avec  un  rire  dans  ses  eaux; 

Les  trois  Nymphes  debout  aupres  des  trois  roseaux 

Se  prirent  par  la  main  et  danserent ;  du  bois 

Les  faunes  roux  sortaient  par  troupes,  et  des  voix 

Chanterent  par  dela  les  arbres  du  verger, 

Avec  des  flutes  en  eveil  dans  I'air  leger. 

La  terre  retentit  du  galop  des  centaures ; 

II  en  venait  du  fond  de  I'horizon  sonore, 

Et  Ton  voyait,  assis  sur  la  croupe  qui  rue, 

Tenant  des  thyrses  tors  et  des  outres  ventrues, 

Des  satyres  boiteux  piques  par  des  abeilles, 

Et  les  bouches  de  crin  et  les  levres  vermeilles 

Se  baisaient,  et  la  ronde  immense  et  frenetique, 

Sabots  lourds,  pieds  legers,  toisons,  croupes,  tuniques, 

Tournaient  eperdument  autour  de  moi  qui,  grave, 

Au  passage,  sculptais  aux  flancs  gonfles  du  vase 

Le  tourbillonnement  des  forces  de  la  vie. 

From  Jeux  Rustiques  et  Divins. 

This  return  to  the  Alexandrine,   with  a  certain 
amount  of  new  freedom,  with  just  a  little  contempt 

.  207 . 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

for  the  shackles  fitted  by  Malherbe  and  worn  so  com- 
placently by  the  poets  of  three  successive  centuries, 
is  typical  of  the  Vers  Libre.  The  writers  of  French 
verse,  especially  those  of  non-French  blood  or  educa- 
tion, wandered  during  the  last  two  decades  of  the 
last  century  as  far  from  regularity  as  they  dared 
while  yet  calling  their  product  verse;  but  most  of 
them  kept  in  touch  with  familiar  models.  In  all  their 
ventures  on  the  waves  of  experiment,  a  line  here  and 
there  seems  to  prove  that  they  had  one  eye  on  the 
safe  shore  of  Classic  prosody,  and  especially  upon 
that  beacon  of  all  French  versifiers,  the  Alexandrine. 
The  great  twelve-syllable  verse  is,  after  all,  the 
surest  and  most  natural  resource  in  French,  rhythmic 
utterance.  Its  variety  is  infinite,  its  stability  inde- 
structible. 

The  writer  of  this  too  superficial  essay  has  not 
attempted  to  theorize,  and  will  not  permit  himself 
to  prophesy.  In  the  brief  references  to  Vers  Libre  he 
has  confined  himself  to  what  is  close  enough  to  the 
old  norm  to  be  called  vers  and  yet  independent 
enough  to  deserve  the  adjective  libre.  Who  can  say 
how  much  favor  a  new  generation  will  grant  to  such 
sectionally  arranged  prose  as  Paul  Fort  calls  bal- 
lades, and  which  he  has  collected  in  a  recently 
published  Anthologie?  Ballades  in  the  accepted 
French  sense  they  surely  are  not,  though  they  show 
certainly  some  characteristics  of  the  "fixed  form"  so 

.208. 


CONCERNING  FRENCH  VERSE 

denominated.  It  may  well  be  possible  that  the 
French-speaking  world  will  advance,  or  retrograde, 
to  a  point  where  rhythmically  divided  speech  will 
satisfy  as  true  verse  has  satisfied  in  the  past.  Or  a 
reaction  may  set  in,  and  the  demand  will  be  for 
nothing  less  than  conformity  to  the  old  combination 
of  syllabic,  accentual,  and  quantitative  elements, 
which  it  has  been  our  effort  to  explain  in  the  fore- 
going pages.  That  the  true  essence  of  that  combina- 
tion, its  real  distinction  from  prose,  has  been  made 
clear  is  far  from  being  claimed  by  the  writer. 
Greater  than  he  have  left  this  problem  unsolved. 
Stendhal  said:  "Has  any  imaginative  critic  ever 
absolutely  fathomed  what  is  most  essential  in  that 
particular  form  we  call  style'?"  And  Mr.  Arthur 
Symonds,  quoting  Stendhal  in  the  English  Review^ 
writes:  "The  problem  has  always  been  one  of  a  kind 
of  spiritual,  or  unspiritual,  vexation  to  all  those 
who  have  endeavoured  to  define  it.  One  thing,  how- 
ever, is  certain,  that  the  rhythm  of  verse,  that 
rhythm  which  distinguishes  it  from  prose,  has  never 
been  traced  with  any  certainty  to  its  origin."  In 
trying  to  show  what  its  basis  is  in  French,  we  have 
succeeded  in  showing,  perhaps,  that  rhythm  in  the 
prosodic  sense  is  a  composite  thing. 


209 


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